


Get into the system (we both know you need one)

by Mothwing



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Aro-Ace Phasma, BDSM, Beating, Belting, Blow Jobs, Consensual Kink, D/s, Dom Drop, Dom is not abusive, Dominant Armitage Hux, Emotional Baggage, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Past Leia Organa/Han Solo, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Phasma Ships It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Spanking, Submissive Kylo Ren, Trauma, Under-negotiated Kink, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, i don't know how to tag, non-abusive kink, really slow burn, safe consensual but not always so sane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22735597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothwing/pseuds/Mothwing
Summary: After the Crash, Hux has carved out a new existence as head of First Order Cleaning and things are ticking along nicely. He has a cat, couch, a TV, and minimal human interaction. But there is that one job at the Senator's house that none of his cleaners will take because of her son's behaviour. Maybe it is time he took over. Maybe it is time someone taught him a lesson.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Phasma/Nastia Unamo
Comments: 144
Kudos: 158





	1. Chapter 1

Emerging from the nothingness of sleep Hux forced to himself to roll straight into a standing position from the couch. The room was cast into the vaguely blue glow of the television, after rummaging around he found the remote on the couch and turned it off.

Breathed.

Put out a bowl of cat food.

Padded into the bathroom, gingerly trying to stand up straight, ignoring the dull ache between his shoulder blades and in his lower back.

Showered, his eyes fixed on his strangely angular toes.

Brushed his teeth.

Shaved, avoiding his eyes in the mirror.

Dressed in his crisp black work overalls.

Shoes, which he gave a short polish, frowning. Looks were important.

Checked cart.

Replaced one of the rugs.

Lit up. Started driving.

He checked his roster again at the first streetlight. Blue house was first, it was about an hours’ drive away. He had put it at the beginning of his day because it was furthest out and an easy, nice job.

The old lady was never in, she kept the place as tidy as her patently failing eyesight would allow. She always left out baked goods, too, which he took and gave his employees. Anything else would have seemed irresponsible. This was one of the only jobs he had kept for himself in the past years. It had been one of his first, too. These days he only dropped in for old time’s sake or, like today, for quality control.

He eased onto the highway and let his thoughts fly freely as he approached his first stop. Blue House. It was actually Client Number 036, but he had come to grow fond of the place as Blue House, as it was lodged in his head. He changed lanes to overtake a slow truck, avoiding his face in the mirror. The past ten years had not been kind to him and he looked a lot less like his polished, glossy self than he had done. His skin looked unhealthy and always had an odd sheen to it, he had deep shadows under his eyes that looked like old bruises, his hair had gone lank.

He did not like to think of his past in the financial business at all. The crash had made him expendable, and he had found himself free falling before he had realised what had happened to him. The next thing he knew, he was out on the street.

He was not one to turn up at his parents’ doorstep, not that they’d have been much help. And thus, First Order Cleaning had come into being when he had found that his own minor cleanliness compulsion was easily exploitable as an employable skill. It was easy to code the app that his business relied and gig-hire other cleaners. App, logo, and a sharp outfit which came with trusty branded anonymity had done the rest.

He pulled up to CN036 and felt a sudden tug of fondness. He let himself in with the key left out for the staffer and checked all the usual corners people sometimes were wont to cut. Satisfied, he left fifteen minutes later. Blue House was in order, he found. He opened his phone and gave the cleaner an upgrade on the app’s internal software, satisfied. MC-42 was shaping up nicely and she would appreciate the upgrade.

He put the phone back into its stand and put in the next location, another quality control check-up. This time it was EC-21. He had another strike to go before he was out. Hux sighed. Maybe Phasma was right and he finally ought to leave these kinds of jobs to other people.

The morning passed as it usually did, half quality control, half assessment and bonus/demerit allocation, too much of it spent on the phone. Mitaka back in the large, glossy rooms that the man seriously referred to as head office and which Hux was usually too ashamed to set foot in called occasionally about things that warranted special attention. These rooms were nice, high street, and as glossy white and black as everything else about the company, embossed with the logo, and with Mitaka and Phasma there to deal with customer service so he did not have to. His office space was above them and where he spent his time when he was in. 

It was late afternoon when Mitaka called for the fifth time, only that his usually chipper voice suddenly sounded hesitant.

“Boss?”

“Yes?”

“It’s… It’s Client 577. Again. The cleaner quit.”

Hux rubbed his eyes and then pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger to ward off the oncoming headache. This was the ninth time in a row.

“Thanks, Mitaka. What was it this time?”

“The cleaner did not say, just left their cart by the employee changing area and left.”

“Not again. I will deal with the matter.”

“But sir….”

“Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hux disconnected the call with a jab of his finger, then frowned at the slight smudge his fingertip left on the pristine surface of his phone. He opened his glove compartment, took the cloth out of its holster and polished the screen with patient ease.

There had been ten formal complaints issued via the app by his employees so far, and several of them refused to take this job. It had been blacklisted so hard that it had to be hand-assigned by him.

The first time, it had been an unholy mess. Broken furniture, broken glass everywhere in the living room. The cleaner who had handed in the report had looked frightened but had not refused to go back.

She had the second time. The second time, it had been blood stains in the bathroom. This was not entirely unusual, but after she spotted the bloody handprints, she took pictures for Hux and resigned. He had put it down to her being squeamish and assigned the job to another morning cleaner. 

The third time, it had been the sound of porn blaring loudly from the son’s room, which had the cleaner leave early, as the contract required them to work alone. They were back the next day, and did not go back after that, because that turned out to be the fourth time. The fourth time, the son threatened Hux’s cleaner. They had taken herself off this assignment and Hux had agreed it had been the right decision.

That was when he had had to start assigning the job personally, to hand-picked cleaners, because this was shaping up to be unusual and the client was rather high-profile. He had assigned the job to a hardy, placid soul he believed to be working primarily for drug money and who came in far from sober, but still able to clean very diligently. That had backfired, as he’d decided the place was haunted when he found the living room trashed. Again. That was the fifth time. This had not been helped by him being threatened by the son whom he’d woken up. That was the sixth time. Hux had let him go.

He reassigned again, to an old hand. Whose complaint had consisted simply of several disturbing pictures of blood smeared across the kitchen floor. The pattern was that of a fist smashed into the wall. That was the seventh time. Two weeks later, the cleaner took herself off of the job after finding blood and bloody razorblades in the bathroom. That was the eighth time. She said she was not going to be working with a suicide risk. Hux reassigned again, to another stoner.

It had been quiet for a long time after that, but after a month he got a complaint from the Senator that said that the cleaner simply did not turn up half the time or did not clean- apparently whenever the son was in the house. This was in keeping with the contract, but also necessitated a rescheduling of the date. Hux apologised and reassigned yet again, this time to a newbie who did everything by the book and was frighteningly eager to please.

He sent a complaint after two weeks because he’d been threatened by the son. He did not come back in. That had been the ninth time. This mysterious vanishing of his cleaner he counted as time number ten.

Hux stared at the shining surface of his phone, the disconnected call still showing, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

After a second, he opened the client file for the senator and quickly read through it, still frowning. 

Maybe it was time he took over.

The next morning found Hux standing in front of the client’s house with the collar of his greatcoat turned up against the cold. It had been years since he got his own hands dirty, but a client of this calibre deserved special attention. There was a path that lead from the main road to the service entrance by the side of the house, which was hidden behind some sort of thick green foliage. Hux noticed how satisfyingly the gravel crunched underfoot as he turned the corner and briefly stood to take in the assignment. The mansion positively loomed. Earthy colours were meant to give it the appearance of warmth, but no amount of terracotta colour made this thing seem less intimidating.

With efficient little gestures he tried not to think of as fussy, Hux checked if his gloves were in place, took his cleaning supplies- gleaming white, a stark contrast to his black uniform. He typed in the door code and let himself in.

The house was empty. 

_Good_.

He did not need to meet the son on his first day here.

Or ever, really. He did not like interacting with his customers. Cleaning after everybody had gone out or to bed was what he was best used to.

After half an hour he realised that he was no longer up to his usual quota when it came to speed and thoroughness and tried to work faster. With grim satisfaction, he quickly did, his body remembering the rhythms required. After an hour, he reached the second floor and the smell emanating from the first bedroom on the left told him that this was the infamous son’s room. He cracked the door open and took an involuntary took a step back, nose twitching.

_Where the hell is the floor?_

There were so many _things_ on it.

Clothes, papers, a layer of soiled white things. Most of them, he realised with distaste, were soiled tissues. Not unusual in itself, but the lube on the bedside table made his nose twitch again. With fastidious care, he picked up the soiled tissues and stuffed them into the black bag.

Still, it wasn’t the worst room he had ever cleaned up, and in many ways it was not surprising that someone who was used to having things picked up after him would not think anything of leaving their room like this for the help to find.

After having cleared the way he started at the top and dusted the incredible amount of mixed martial arts trophies which were lazily spread across two long shelves along the wall opposite the window.

No books, he noticed, curious in spite of himself. And, judging from the discarded clothes carpeting the room on one side, as tall as him, but broader, bulkier, _and_ proficient in martial arts. _And_ known temper issues. No wonder his cleaners had been scared.

After having completed the job hours later he realised that he had spent the bulk of his time in the son’s room simply because it was in such a filthy state even after only few days since the last clean.

He had also formed his impression- the son was lazy, spoilt, directionless. Probably had mental health issues, given the blood that had been in evidence in the past.

Still, it was not too bad. Of course the McMansion was large, but this also meant more hours and it was, overall, a nice, easy clean. He put the house back into the rotation, updating the description based on his personal impression and also updated the hourly rate slightly upwards. It was already in the premium area, but he knew that the senator had deep pockets (now he knew this even better) and was aware of the difficulty with finding cleaners who stayed.

Back at the office, he assigned the job to an old hand who he knew needed the money.

The app pinged, informing him of the cleaner’s rejecting the job.

He tried again. The app pinged rejection again.

Several pings later, became clear that none of his cleaners would take it however much he pushed the house. It seemed that in spite of his enforced anonymity, word had somehow gotten around.

His brow creased, his hands hovering over yet another user profile, but then he confirmed.

His personal phone buzzed. He took it out and pressed _Accept_.

Done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux finds out more about the son and has a disturbing reminder of his own past.

It took only three days of cleaning for him to have his own strange encounter. Having finished the hallway he stepped into the kitchen and almost jumped back. There was shattered crockery everywhere. Mugs, plates, saucers, the lot. Someone had clearly opened the cupboard above the sink and upended its entire contents onto the floor.

Hux saw the discrete Italian logo on one of the shards and felt anger bloom inside him. Nobody seemed to have made any sort of effort to acknowledge what had happened here, leaving it for him to remove. He knew the senator only ever came home in the evenings. He did not mind cleaning up messes, it was his job, after all, but the ostentatiousness of this did make him bristle.

Was there a cause to this, he could not help but wonder, or was an unprovoked outburst, a common thing? It certainly explained why his cleaners had been intimidated before. Hux quickly picked up the shards and recoiled when how sharp some of the edges were. Carefully, he persisted, still vaguely wondering what would have brought on this outburst.

He did not have to go far to find an answer to that question, however. A crumpled envelope across under the counter and a still legible piece of shredded paper it offered a clue.

“w _e regret t”_ , it said.

Nothing good ever followed that.

So even in this house, _we regret_ cast its long shadows over the recipient.

So tall, bulky, and furious upon rejection.

Given the sports trophies it was not surprising, Hux mused. And given his families status probably also not used to being rejected for anything. His lip involuntarily curled as he continued to hoover the lush carpet carefully.

Like everything else in the house, it cost more than most things in his shit flat put together. Even though he was finally making decent money again, he stayed in the first flat he had moved to _after_. It was cheap, held together by plaster and hope in many areas. Still, he felt strangely at ease there and it reminded him of home.

Watching the vacuum cleaner glide over the carpet was strangely meditative. Even though practically all of his cleaners used headphones, Hux preferred to work without them, he liked to be aware of his surroundings.

There were no pictures of the son anywhere in the house, only one of a vaguely blurry small boy in an aircraft carousel at a funfair next to the door of the senator’s study, which Hux did not have access to. The boy in the red plane had an unruly mop of black hair and dark eyes. He looked happy. Hux scoffed, braced himself, and entered the son’s room.

The carpet of clothes was as much in evidence as ever, and the strong, musky smell emanating from the sheets made him double-check if his gloves were still on. This time, there was a lot of paper in the wastepaper basket. Crumpled printed out sheets that seemed to have a CV on it, sleeves of more letters, all addressed to the senator’s son. Hux felt simultaneously smug and sympathetic towards the son, seemed as though his mother’s name did not open as many doors to him as he would have first believed.

Having cleaned the unholy amount of soiled tissues, sheets and clothes away, he took a moment to stand and look around the room. He did not usually take an interest, but he found himself curious in spite of himself.

The walls were a dark denim-grey colour, making it appear gloomy even during daytime. The window faced a large tree, nothing much else visible but the spiky branches and a triangle of sky on the left.

In the large cupboard along the wall, he spotted clean clothes in blacks and greys and sports gear. One door, always left ajar, allowed a view of the hamper for dirty clothes- a completely useless object, Hux reflected, given that everything ended up on the floor anyway. The two long shelves on the walls with all sorts of trophies on them, not organised in any shape or form. A desk and chair, The bed. Nightstand with lube and a battered looking alarm clock. Headphones.

Given the senator’s wealth, he would have expected a more ostentatious display of some sort. And yet, this room was so _bare_ it was almost minimalistic, nothing for the eye to rest on but the sports trophies celebrating the son’s many achievements, no other distractions. In its tidy state, the room almost looked like a show room in a catalogue for expensive dark furniture.

Later, Hux never knew why, but after having dusted them, he organised the sports trophies by date. It seems that the son had gotten more and more proficient. He left the largest, most impressive looking sports trophy in the middle of the now empty, gleaming desk and left before he could ask himself why on earth he would do such a thing.

The ride back to head office passed quickly with organisational phone calls and talking through some other minor issues with Mitaka, who could inform him that CN320 continued to be happy with his team of cleaners. The elderly man owned another looming mansion outside of town, no one really knew what he did, and Hux was almost certain that his hunch of employing taciturn cleaners in it for the money they could send home to their families in far-off countries and who did not speak English had been a stroke of brilliance. 

He could tell it was Phasma in his doorway because the light from the hallway dimmed. She was leaning casually against the doorframe as always, watching him type in the sorry excuse of an office that he called his own now. It was about the size of his living room. Slightly annoyed at her intrusion he pretended to take longer than he did, then turned to her with a sigh.

“Phasma. What can I do for you?”

“I noticed that we haven’t reassigned 577 in over a week. What happened there?” Her blue eyes bored into his uncomfortably and he wished he had not turned around to look at her.

“I handled the matter.”

“Does that mean that you took _over_ , boss?” Phasma’s eyebrows rose dramatically and he frowned.

“We can’t really afford to lose the senator. Having her as a client opened a lot of doors, especially with her aspiring neighbours.”

“Still, boss. Come _on._ You’ve got employees for that.” Phasma’s tone was gentle, and he was reminded once more that Phasma and Mitaka, his office staff, the efficient front of his empire, had never seen him in action, simply could not _believe_ the amount of time he’d spent cleaning houses and polishing silver and chrome in his youth. If Phasma sometimes guessed there was more to it, she did not let on. “Or did she ask for …personal service?”

“No, Phasma, and I would appreciate if you could let me fill in the pay checks in peace now,” he said crisply, even though it was obvious that that had not been what he had been doing, given how the app handled that. She shook her head at him.

“Want to come out for coffee with me and my partner?”

Hux was genuinely confused for a second. “Mitaka?”

“No, and fuck you, sir. See you tomorrow.”

She knocked against the doorframe good-naturedly and was gone.

Oh.

 _Partner_.

He’d seen the woman a couple of times, shorter than her, mousy, somehow. Forgettable. It was nice that she wanted to include him, but he had work to do, and then.

He drove home well after he was certain that Mitaka and Phasma had gone. Got out of his work overalls.

T-Shirt.

What used to be his good trousers, the crease still somewhat visible, though it had seen better days.

Millicent curling up on his lap, settling in for the night.

Glass of whisky.

Blue light from the television tinted living room fading in front of his closing eyes as he fell asleep.

The next Tuesday, Hux decided that after a period of grace of two weeks and no incidents, he would put the senator’s house back into the regular job pool and personally call up cleaners one stroke away from having their profile deleted from the app, describe his experience, and assign them. This time, there was nothing about the senator’s house that was out of place, though it was _freezing_. Someone had left the doors to the patio open and autumn cold had crept into every single room.

When he could not feel his fingers anymore because his water had turned equally icy, he briefly debated getting his coat from the car, but then decided against it because he did not want it to get dirty.

It did not take him long to make an unthinkable decision. Heart beating in his chest, he picked up a hoody lying in the hallway and put it on over his work overalls. He continued on his round. The crockery had been replaced with identical crockery, he noticed with a jab.

The son’s room was again covered in clothes, and he had swept the trophies down from the shelf and they littered the floors. The largest was in the bin.

_Well, someone had a flair for the dramatic._

Hux picked them back up and placed them on the shelves ordered by size. When he wiped down the desk, the laptop came to life.

Annoyed, Hux made to pick it up and froze.

The screen showed a lithe, young a man being held down by two burly older men while a third was penetrating him from behind. Hux felt the flush creep up his neck and make his face burn as he removed it from the desk. He could not help but glance back at it and noticed the number of open tabs around the video, music in the background. 

He felt unusually curious about the video and it took quite an unusual amount of willpower not to look how long the video had been running before it had been paused. He had found porn at jobs before, not infrequently, but somehow, this got to him in ways other porn had not.

He firmly turned his back on the laptop and continued his job, suddenly uncomfortably warm in the purloined hoodie and very conscious of the faint odour it emitted—not unpleasant, but defined, rich, earthy.

Even when he felt the heat creeping back in, he kept it on. Hux somewhat wistfully took it off before going home. As he dropped off the wastepaper on his way out he missed its warmth.

Half an envelope fluttered from the bin to the ground. With a curse, he picked it up and froze as he saw what was left on the name.

_No._

It was probably only part of the name.

And there were probably thousands of people with similar names in the first place.

_No._

_Not here._

_Not him._

_Not now._

He squeezed his eyes shut and calmed down as the memory of the scent filled his nostrils somehow.

Later, at home, the scent seemed to follow him, followed him into the shower, followed him onto the couch, couldn’t even seem to be drowned out by the scent of his whisky. Millicent did not seem to mind when she lay down next to him.

He had a sneaking suspicion that it followed him into his dreams, wrapped around him like the blanket he had thrown over himself as he was drifting off.

The TV was his insurance against dreaming, but this night, it did not work.

Hux found himself in gleaming black dress shoes, walking away from the frantic people shouting into their phones, following orders from angry customers, or shouting to sell, sell everything, sell anything that was still worth anything.

Then, he was walking the gleaming corridors, his heart beating in his throat. Pandemonium surrounded him, people frantically on the phone, shuffling paper or just sitting at their desks crying.

He had been drawn to _his_ office like iron to a magnet. He had known that he was fired as he walked through the door. _He_ had only looked up, and smiled. Cocked his head to the left.

And he was falling,

falling,

 _falling_ ,

until he was standing in front of that desk again. And _he_ was standing in front of him and gave a slow nod downwards.

And Hux forced himself to stare at the Balthus knot on the tie as he slowly dropped to his knees

and _kept_ dropping

And then he was back _home_ , curled up in his bed, listening for the slow steps approaching his door

and woke up with a muffled scream, Millicent let out a disgruntled meow and jumped off the couch. 

Deep breath.

It was so cold the air almost fogged, but he did not mind. Remote control, turn up the sound a notch. Some kind of game show, whatever.

Blanket.

Glass.

When his hands had stopped shaking, he dug out his phone.

_Will be in later. Bad night._

The reply came only thirty seconds later.

_hux it’s 2am either go back to bed or call me_

He found the smile creeping onto his face in spite of himself.

When his phone did ring a few moments later, he did not pick up immediately, he waited a while, took a few deep breaths, and then pressed accept call.

“Phasma.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The son is quite what Hux expected, really, and still looms on his mind long after he left the house.

He felt a little shaken after that night. Hux had not dreamed in years and kept seeing images from his nightly sojourn.

A brief trip to Blue House cured a bit of that, then paperwork, a chat with a nervous Mitaka and a wordless shoulder punch from Phasma, then off to do quality control.

He got to upgrade two cleaners, but had to let one go.

Back at headquarters, in his office, he stared at the screen without seeing and barely registered Mitaka handing him paperwork.

Phasma loomed over him towards the end of the day, handing him his coat.

“Meeting in half an hour, boss. You seem to need it, too.”

He did not reply, but nodded and got to his feet.

Of course Phasma had been right, and damn her.

He felt strangely raw, but accomplished, after. To celebrate, he made himself drive down to the gym and mechanically complete his work out routine.

Phasma had offered time and again to come with him, but he had refused. He already felt out of place and hated all the mirrors. He did not need Phasma to see him like that, though god, she had seen worse in time.

Still, he felt good afterwards.

That night, changing from channel to channel, he froze when he saw a documentary on a distillery. He stared at the green landscape, transfixed, his heart beating hard.

_Not a good choice for many reasons._

Suddenly the glass from his table was in his hand. He took a deep breath, inhaling in the familiar scent, put it back down as he saw familiar houses. His heartbeat sent hammer blows through his temples, each one echoing through his skull.

Hux made himself watch the entire thing, just to satisfy him that ghosts did not exist and even if they did, could not appear on television. He changed channels to pro wrestling after that and fell asleep feeling more aware of his body than he generally liked to be, but not unpleasantly so.

Heading up to the house, he spotted an incongruity hidden behind the swing on one corner of the patio. He stepped closer and saw that it was an ashtray, cigarette butts with lipstick still on them. The senator must be under a lot of stress. He gingerly moved them deeper into their hiding place with the toe of his shoe, her secret safe with him.

He knew something was different the moment he stepped into the house. Loud, angry music came from the son’s room. He felt a strange fluttering sensation in his stomach. There had not been cars in the driveway, so he was pretty sure that he was alone. He still went to check first.

The floor was covered in clothes again, one of them a coat sporting the logo of the delivery company the son must be pretending to work for at the moment, laptop on, music blaring from the speakers.

No son.

His shoulders untensed and he closed the laptop.

Hux started his routine and was vacuuming the carpet in the living room, careful not to go the wrong direction and spoil the perfect pattern.

_What was that?_

He stopped in his tracks and switched off the vacuum cleaner. There it was again, he heard quiet sounds behind the closed door of the bathroom.

He should leave.

The terms and conditions he had written allowed him to leave and reschedule.

He had made sure it was set up that way.

And yet.

He found himself standing in front of the bathroom door, curious in spite of himself, about this person who had caused so much grief to his cleaners.

There was an almighty crash which made him jump at first, but it was only a fist hitting a mirror, he thought. It had cracked but did not shatter. Then the sounds of someone kicking the cabinet hard, repeatedly.

His heart in his throat, he found himself turning the doorknob.

_Why did he keep making terrible choices?_

Even though he had formed certain impressions, seeing him was still a surprise.

The son, as tall as him, bulky, long dark hair obscuring his face, was leaning on the sink and indeed kicking the cabinet, hard, repeatedly. A trickle of blood ran from his knuckles into the wash basin.

_What now._

“ _Stop_ that,” he said, loudly.

The son snapped around and rounded on him, fists bunched, coming to a halt a mere inch away. He needed to update the hourly to a higher rate, he mused, looking into dark, almost black eyes that glittered with rage and something more. The son was pale, birthmarks dotted all over his skin. He stood in a cloud of a strangely sour odour, his body’s scent and something more, unhealthy.

“Who are you?” he spat, in a voice that was so deep Hux thought he could feel rather than hear it.

_What a stupid question._

As though that wasn’t bloody obvious, given his outfit. The son’s fists were clenched but Hux could tell he was not going to hit him in spite of all the bluster. The son was glaring at him, breathing hard. Hux noticed that he had automatically stood up straight and was thus looking slightly down on the son, who was slumping.

“Wash that,” Hux said sharply, pointing at the knuckles “And then you need to put disinfectant and plasters on it or it’ll get infected.”

The son kept glaring at him.

Hux cocked his head at at the sink.

The moment stretched between them like a string tucked, and there were many ways this could go and many things Hux imagined would happen, his heart in his throat.

What he did not imagine was the son turning on his heel, opening the tap and holding his bleeding hand under the stream of water with a wince.

He seemed to deflate a little and Hux felt himself relaxing back into himself a bit. Hux watched him, taking in more details about him. He was wearing a tracksuit that clearly had not been made to do sports in, but it did not look as scruffy as it might have done.

The son himself was unwashed und unkempt, however. His hair was greasy and framed his head in easy waves. He had a wide, sensuous mouth that he must have gotten from his father. His eyes and the expression he currently favoured were all his mother’s.

Hux could see there was more to it, though. Something about him was strangely coiled in on itself, like a spring, there was this permanent undercurrent of nervous aggression that made Hux want to give him a smack on the backside and send him to his room.

“Your first aid kit is in the kitchen,” Hux said unnecessarily when the stream of water had stopped. “Go on.”

The son glared at him again and bumped into his shoulder as he passed, his face a mask. He must be mortified, Hux mused, if he even had that sort of awareness for other people having opinions on other people.

Hux followed at a distance and watched the son stand in the kitchen, looking around in mild confusion.

_For fuck’s sake._

Hux took the first aid kit out of the cabinet next to the one whose crockery the son had smashed the week before and took out the disinfectant and started digging for plasters. He nodded at another sink.

There were drops of blood charting their progress from the bathroom.

 _Wonderful_.

“Hand,” he ordered, and the son wordlessly extended it over the sink. Hux sprayed a generous measure onto the wounds and with a mild stab of satisfaction saw the son wince and try to hide his reaction.

He fished out four winged band aids. With more practice than he still liked to have, he put them onto the knuckles. The son’s skin was very, very warm, he found and ordered himself to stop thinking about it.

 _Now what._ He handed the son a rag and nodded towards the trail of blood.

“Clean up the blood.”

Another moment that stretched between them with the son glaring daggers at him and Hux wondering what on earth gotten into him to break character like this.

With a sigh, the son looked at the floor and grabbed the rag, none too gently, from Hux’s hand.

A spark lit in Hux’s stomach region as he watched the son walk backwards and dab at the blood stains, ineffectively, badly, but he _was_ doing it.

Hux tidied away the first aid kit. The son was back far too fast to have done a decent job and threw the rag at his feet. Hux met his eyes levelly.

“Do I need to call someone to come check on you? Your mother?”

“No,” the son growled, looking daggers. “Everything is _fine_. Mind your business.”

Hux glared at him, wanting to take the sides of that hoodie and shake him. Instead he kicked the rag back at the son.

“This goes into the cart by the door.”

“ _I’M_ not the cleaner!” the son stormed, turned on his heel, left.

Angry music blared out of his room seconds later. Hux felt his pulse and breath slowing again, picked up the rag, took his cart, and left. He’d have to reschedule.

“You look positively chipper, boss. I’m glad.”

Hux did not deign to reply to such an inane comment from Phasma. Undeterred, she put a strange fruity smelling concoction onto his desk.

“Smoothie. You haven’t eaten,” she said.

He looked at her and made a point of not thanking her. Her hand briefly clasped his shoulder, anyway.

He would not accept this from anyone else, but Phasma had been in his life since the crash and its aftermath. Everything had spiralled out of control and it had been a … difficult time. He was not one to go around telling his sob story to everyone, pitying himself, but when he had moved into his current crap apartment, he had willed himself to pull himself together and started managing his condition again.

And that had brought Phasma, and her gruff directness and no-nonsense attitude. She was disciplined and hard on everyone, including herself. Eventually, he had found himself even talking to her about some things. He had not thought that the mere act of seeing someone in a … more recreational setting would inspire this sort of commitment. When his app had taken off and he could afford to hire personnel to deal with customers, so he did not have to, he had offered her a job, which she had gladly taken.

And he liked her, liked how disciplined she was, even though she had been honourably discharged years before after her third tour of duty. He had a good idea of why. And then… well. The wheels had come off. But she always held herself erect and was always spotlessly dressed and seemed impenetrable.

At his desk, he took a sip of the fruity drink and the sharp taste of ginger shocked him fully awake. He tasted carrot and some berry in its wake and thought about being upset about being handed such a brightly orange monstrosity, but instead transferred ten dollars to Phasma’s personal account via the app. He did not accept charity.

He watched his fingers type the search phrases automatically and tried not to judge himself.

He did not pry into private lives.

Business lives and financial lives, sure, but _not_ private lives.

It was the one thing remaining from his tattered code of conduct, because maybe, if he didn’t, other people would return the favour.

 _Too late_.

The articles were already open, and goodness, were there many of them. The senator and her husband, who seemed to be a rather glittering international businessman, had one son, who was listed partly as Kylo and Ben Organa-Solo. The couple had split up years before, but remained on good terms.

“Kylo” seemed to have been the stage name he had given himself for several mixed martial arts tournament he had entered “incognito”. And won. Hux remembered the trophies and was _very_ doubtful that really nobody had known.

The older article mentioned a very volatile time at various schools, several of which he had been expelled from for disruptive and violent behaviour, the senator’s political opposition making considerable hay from it, gleefully going on about how a mother belonged home with her mess of a son and should consider stepping down to give their family values and strong economy candidate a crack at it.

There were articles focusing on how the Senator had made her son get a job and how he was working in an entry level position for… the jobs varied. Son didn’t seem to be able to keep one, Hux mused with satisfaction. From the kind of jobs he did work, it looked as though he could have applied to his own company if he had been even a little cleaner. Delivery, waitor, stocking stores, typing pool… not glamorous. 

There was an article that made fun of the senator’s stance on education, given that her son had been kicked out of ten schools for unruliness. He had been shipped off to a specialised boarding school towards the end of his school time. It was a free school with a heavy focus on holistic education and religion. He _had_ graduated from that one, though, the article hastened to add, that one was run by the boy’s own _uncle_ and therefore could he really have changed that much and wasn’t it more likely that the success was due to nepotism? The school had been close to Hux’s former job, he realised with a small stab.

There were some pictures with the articles, all showed a lanky teenager all but charging at the camera, some with his mother looking worried in the background. He looked unhappy in every single one of them. Glaring in front of a school, shoulders slumped. Glaring next to his mother’s car while shouting something at the camera man. Glaring in a hat, delivering pizza. Glaring in a tie at a rally. Glaring as his mother was winning an election. He was very far away from the boy in the photo with the aeroplane carousel.

The one where he had an expression other than glowering, pent-up rage was one that showed him being handed a large statue. Hux recognised the statue, it was the one he had placed on the desk and subsequently rescued from the bin. His overalls suddenly felt stuffy and too tight, heat pooled in his belly. The son, _Ben_ —or was it Kylo?— stood tall in that one, and looked ..good. Better than he did in any of the other pictures. Hux- had not noticed how …impressive his physique was under the sports clothes, but he was quite—

“ _Re_ search?”

Hux almost spilled the fruity orange drink, heat immediately shot upwards, making his face glow. He turned to glare at Phasma.

“Reading up on our 577 problem, yes.”

She hovered into his personal space, squinting at the screen.

“Looks like such a brat. You should get him to enlist. That’d straighten him out,” she said offhandedly.

Hux scoffed.

“That does not fit in well with his mother’s military downsizing platform, though.”

“ _Actually_ , it would offer her greater credibility. I’d never vote for her, because she clearly does not live in the real world. A whiff of real life would be good for her. And that overgrown brat, too.”

Hux wanted to agree but found himself not doing that. He took a sip of the drink instead.

“You’re coming out for drinks with us tonight,” she said.

Hux’s eyebrows shot upwards and he did not know how to respond for a moment.

“ _Drinks?”_

Phasma laughed.

“Don’t worry, it’s Virgin Night at Fipo’s. I could make a joke here about you fitting right in, but I don’t know enough about your personal life to know if that’s true or not, so I won’t.”

Hux smiled a wry smile and bored a finger into the centre of her chest and to shove her away.

“And this way, you will never know.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux is not ready for any of this, but that does not stop him from running before he can walk. Too bad he's running off a cliff.

The next morning as he woke up on his couch, he had to concede it had done him good. He also found it easier to be in the bar than he had believed. He had not been out among people … in years. He had even put on a suit, and it was like stepping into an embrace. They still felt and looked good on him, and he knew that at some point he would have to examine why he stubbornly refused to put them on if he did not decide to clean at work, knowing that he did not want to do that.

In the course of the evening, he even warmed up to the mousy partner and found his natural talent to entertain a group come back. He had done this so often, back in the day, it had been practically part of his job, the only difference was that it had not been tipsy brokers he regaled and cajoled, but… well, Phasma and her partner.

He had never drunk around other people, preferring to keep his wits about him, and it had been different to be in a group of exclusively sober people. Phasma had very gently teased him and pointed out people he might be interested in, all of whom he had scathingly refused.

He put out a bowl of cat food and stepped into the bathroom.

Showering, he looked down at his toes.

The truth was, he no longer knew what he wanted in… that respect. Sure, there had been … _people_ , but those were always mutually beneficial relationships, quid pro quo’s, every single one of them.

_No._

There had been two exceptions, but that was so long ago that he barely remembered his feelings back then. He had been a teenager. And then… _events_ had occurred and he had simply lost interest and pursued other things.

In fact, he thought that he rather had that in common with Phasma, though he saw that he was still interested in sex. He did not believe in more. From what Phasma had told him, she had just never even been interested in anybody, though she liked playing with some people, in a kinky way, in her youth. Then, there had been the army and her work. Then a superior officer who never was court marshalled because he was killed in combat first, but she had only ever brought that up one very bad night. That had not changed things either way but made it… tougher.

Then, civilian life had kept her busy, and then mousy partner had materialised and quietly inserted herself into her life and grounded her and made her better.

He briefly touched himself, trying to jumpstart something, but it did not work. Sighing, he towelled himself off.

Shaved, avoiding his eyes in the mirror.

Brushed his teeth.

Put on his work overall, shined his work shoes.

Checked his cart.

Lit up.

Drove to headquarters.

He checked in to the office first to give the senator and the son time to vacate the premises. He felt strangely nervous about going, checking the state of his work overalls covertly—or so he thought—so often that finally Phasma snapped, told him to stand up straight, walked around him once, and declared him fit for work. She did not comment on this, but went straight back to talking him through the negotiation she had had with the owner of the small Detroit start up his company had absorbed, and he was grateful.

He set out for the house. As per the contract, the son should not be in today.

When he opened the door, he immediately knew that he was.

Loud porn moans blared through the halls and he could hear clear sounds of someone masturbating. It seemed too staged to be real, but Hux sighed and started his routine anyway. After a while, there was a loud crescendo and the porn noises stopped. It was replaced by loud, angry music.

Hux decided to ignore this behaviour and continued on his round downstairs. However, at some point, he reached the son’s room.

Bracing himself, he opened the door. The view that presented itself to him was much like what he had expected, really. Wearing only a black bathrobe, the son was sitting in front of the desk, legs spread obscenely, his hand gliding languidly over his impressive penis.

Heat shot into Hux’s face and he forced himself to look away. The laptop _was_ emitting the music, but it also showed a tied-up man being forced to suck another man’s penis. The son’s expression was almost bored, though a strange hunger and restlessness was present in his eyes.

_Now what._

Something in him decided for him. He walked in before the son had time to react and approached the desk. With one snake-like dart of leg he kicked the leg of the chair that the glowering son was sitting on. In an instant, Ben clattered to the floor in a heap of black bathrobe and swearwords. Hux did not permit his face to change.

He stepped forward and upended the trash bin heaping with used tissues onto the black-haired head.

“Clean. Yourself. Up.”

Black eyes stared up at him with such intensity that other things seemed to swirl in their depths. The other did not answer, he merely stared. Hux prodded him with his foot.

“You heard me,” he said softly.

For a moment the faint ringing in his ears made him think that he could hear the silence stretching between them in spite of the blaring music. The son’s eyes looked so dark they appeared black, and from this vantage points almost lost, and a little frightened.

Almost shy.

From the corners of his eyes, Hux saw one large hand moving, haphazardly grabbing tissues and stuffing them back into the basket, one tugging his robes across his crotch and still-erect penis.

“Sit up straight,” Hux said, trying to fight the sudden breathlessness in his voice and not breaking eye contact. To his amazement, the son did, the trash bin loosely held by his side, one hand still groping for the tissues.

“Good,” Hux allowed, when the son had cleared up the mess around him and himself. “You were not supposed to be in here today,” he added, uncertain why. He was terrified of this entire situation slipping sideways and turning mortifying.

The son scoffed, and for a second, he seemed about to go back to being angry, but then, much to Hux’s surprise, stopped himself. Instead, he sat on his heels and looked up at Hux expectantly, palms lying flat on his thighs, his still very erect penis very visible under his robes.

Hux felt himself moving forward as though remote controlled. He stood before the son and looked at him, waiting, uncertain, not sure if—

The hands coming up fumblingly, opening the zipper and groping for his penis answered that one for him. He was about to feel humiliated and used when all was eclipsed by the feeling of being taken into that mouth, _good Lord that mouth_.

Hux was barely able to bite off the groan and dug his fingers into the son’s hair, but when he felt more than heard the answering moan, fire filled his insides and he felt his entire body grow taut.

It was sloppy, and unruly, and the son—Ben—clearly had no idea what he was doing, but Hux was so unused to having this done to him that it was almost overwhelmingly good anyway.

He had to push him back somewhat to slow things down twice so as to not humiliate himself not too much.

_That mouth. That tongue._

Hux barely had time for a warning before he came so hard his knees almost buckled, weeks of fatigue and insomnia almost making it impossible to feel this strongly and still remain standing.

Somehow he did, panting, shaking all over. He did not want to know what his expression looked like, but the complete sense of wonder on the son’s face did not bode well, nor did the way his eyes fluttered closed when Hux tried to wipe away the beatific expression with a hand placed on Ben’s cheek.

“You are forgiven,” he said, once he had his voice under control again. A sudden movement Ben made with his arm gave him an idea. “Go on,” he said, nodding at the son’s crotch. “I’ll watch.”

Ben hesitated, but then groped for himself anyway and forcefully started bringing himself off, coming explosively, _loudly,_ and barely after Hux had had time to settle himself into his desk chair, still weak-kneed, mind reeling.

After, Ben sat panting, not looking at Hux, his entire face burning, spatters of their cum covering his thighs. There was something so intensely vulnerable about him that Hux wanted to pick him up and take him home with him, tuck him into bed. At the same time it made him want to lock him in a cage and do horrible, terrible things to him to make those dark eyes give him the same shy, almost frightened look he had had before.

Hux deliberated, then picked up the box of tissues and took the two steps over again, kneeling next to Ben. Wordlessly, he proffered it. Still not looking at him, Ben took the box from him and started cleaning himself up again.

“Did you enjoy that?” the son rumbled after rubbing himself down roughly, his tone raw with something he probably wanted to sound defensive and derisive.

Hux carefully looked him over.

“Yes, I did. And if you’re not going to be a brat about it, I’ll consider letting you do that again.”

The confident tone did it. Ben relaxed and Hux gingerly tangled his hand in his hair once more, letting it run through it. It was softer than he had believed.

“What is your name?” he asked more for something to say, but he supposed it was time they were introduced properly.

Ben did look up at him then, as though wanting to challenge him.

“As if you don’t know that already.”

He let go of his hair and got up, standing up straight again. Ben adjusted his robe so that it was closed, but stayed on the floor, glaring up at him.

“Fine. What do you want me to call you?”

“Kylo,” he answered, almost before Hux had finished the question.

_Alright then._

“I’m Hux,” Hux replied.

“You are going to get fired if this comes out,” _Kylo_ said derisively.

Hux pretended very effectively that this did not send a cold shiver of fear and shame down his spine.

“Yes, probably, if anyone believes you.”

“I could _end_ your career.” 

_What is this_.

“Yes, you could.” Hux levelly agreed. It was true. What was probably momentary madness and years of repressed sexual needs had cast him at the mercy of an overgrown teenager with a superiority complex, heaven preserve him. But something told him to stick it out, something that had a lot to do with the fact that Be— _Kylo_ had let him cup his cheek and pet his hair. 

“But you are not going to do that,” he said firmly.

Kylo scoffed immediately.

“ _Why_ not,” he snarled.

“Because you enjoyed this,” Hux said matter-of-factly. “And I did, too.”

This made Kylo just stare at him, face strangely vulnerable again.

“Is this a financial thing for you?” he asked after a while.

Hux fought off the creeping dread.

“I am not going to pay you,” he said instead, as archly as he could muster. “Get up, let’s look at you,” he said and held out his hand.

After a long moment, Kylo took it and let himself be pulled to his feet, fumbling his robes closed. Hux stretched out a hand for Kylo’s and after a moment of confusion, Kylo held out the hand he had hurt. Hux inspected the plasters gently and saw the inexpertly applied mess.

“Good that you changed them, it’ll make it less likely those get infected,” he said to fill the uncomfortable silence. He dropped Kylo’s hand again. “I am going to finish my job, then I will take a break from that and we can get to know each other a little better,” he said. Kylo did not respond. “How does that sound?”

A nod was all he got as a reply, but it would have to do. He forced himself to stop feeling shaky and took a step back, then stepped back into his role.

With practiced ease, he emptied Kylo’s bin into the black bags he had with him and left. He was not sure how to bring up the fact that he would not clean Kylo’s bedroom if the man was in it, but somehow, he doubted that anyone would mind that, given the way things were going.

Like a man possessed, he finished his clean, questions shouting through his brain.

_What if anyone found out?_

_What if this had not been what Kylo wanted?_

_What did this mean?_

_Was he copying him or was Hux doing what he himself wanted?_

_Why did this have to happen now?_

_Why now?_

_Why him?_

_Why now?_

_What if?_

_What if?_

_What if—_

Even the vacuum cleaner could not down out his thoughts and he even forgot to take his smoke break between floors.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux may be in trouble in his own life, but at least he can help straighten out other people's.

When he was done, he returned to the kitchen and found Kylo sitting on the counter, watching him. He had changed his clothes and showered and Hux envied him. When Kylo’s dark eyes met his, he felt the flush start warmly in his belly. He looked filthy, his hair no longer rigidly in place, a fine sheen of sweat covering his face.

He walked to the door and stood the cart with the cleaning supplies next to it, then texted Phasma he was not going to make it in to lunch. He went into the kitchen and, posture very straight, stood himself opposite the counter.

“So,” Kylo said. “You’re our cleaner.”

“Get down from there. I am _a_ cleaner, you’ve had and scared away several.”

Kylo did get down, crossed his arms, and tried to loom over Hux, which was absurd, because they were of a height. Hux met his glare mildly.

“Who do you think you are, ordering me around in my own house?” Kylo said in a low, angry voice.

Hux forced himself not to roll his eyes _or_ point out that it was, in fact, his mum’s.

While he was able to do considerable damage to him, this rather blatant attempt to intimidate was not going to do anything at all. It was not as though he could hurt him or _would_ , even. For people like Kylo, physical violence was a serious boundary to cross.

He crossed his arms behind his back. 

“You like being told what to do. I like telling people what to do. I think you like a bit more than that, too, but you’ll have to tell me what. As a rule, I do not mix business and pleasure.” _These days, you fucking liar._ “But you… Well. I changed my mind.”

Kylo had not changed position, but there was a subtle change in his expression Hux did not understand. Hux fought the urge to talk to fill the silence, which was always a terrible idea.

“You come in Tuesdays and Thursdays?” Kylo asked.

Hux hesitated.

“Yes.”

Kylo looked away then, almost shyly.

“So. Thursday.”

“Yes,“ Hux replied, heart suddenly in his throat again, a rush of heat collecting in his stomach. “And make sure your room is tidy,” he added.

Kylo glared at him then, challenging, and Hux permitted himself a small smirk.

On his way out he cupped the so- Be- _Kylo’s_ cheek again briefly and stared at the door rather than see how Kylo reacted to this.

_What was he doing. This would end in tears, he knew it._

On the way home, his app pinged admonishingly. He unclipped his phone from the holder attached to his belt to check when he arrived. It was informing him that money had been taken from his hourly rate because of an unsolicited break in the wrong area of the house.

He winced involuntarily. This had been one of his strokes of brilliance which normally did not affect him. The app policed its cleaners rigidly, it was what his customers liked and paid for.

Bathroom breaks were fair game, if a cleaner got sick they could log in the sickness and leave early twice per month without being kicked off the job, breaks outside were fair game as long as the customer did not report anything illicit having taken place. The app was supposed to be paused during breaks, too, to give cleaners a modicum of privacy, because otherwise, they recorded everything that went on and took time delays very seriously.

After all, everyone had a job to do, and that did not involve getting blow jobs in Kylo’s room, especially if an intrusion had not been logged previously. It was not plausible to the app what he had been doing, standing still for that long.

Had it been _that_ long? He’d barely— he had to check the settings.

The app First Order cleaning was based on had been a stroke of brilliance and he was very proud of it. It was perfect at providing maximal customer satisfaction at minimal personal contact with personnel. They could simply log the times at which they would be out, provide the company with means of access, and pretend that fairies had been in to clean.

Oh, if personal contact was _desired_ then that could also be made to happen, at a slight increase in rates. Hux never got the people who requested that, even though the owner of Blue House had chatted to him on several occasions.

At the other end of the spectrum, there were several premium settings which allowed high end customers to allow them anonymity or off-location services like car cleaning or laundry services. Anonymity was very popular, though in Hux’s personal opinion most customers were not careful enough to benefit from the fee they paid. If they did not leave anything out with their personal data on it, the cleaners never knew who they were, but most of them did.

And he had a veritable army of faceless cleaners at his disposal. He’d started out with a few dozen, who had quickly worked their way up the ranks and were probably now senior supervisors themselves somewhere, he had lost sight of them shortly before going public. By now they had bought other, similar start ups in other cities and branched out. It was going well, cleaners signing up fast.

Everyone _started_ at around the same crappy sub-minimum wage that other services in the gig economy offered, at a fraction of what the customers paid the company. However, after a probationary period and six quality control inspections by a senior supervisor or himself, the pay went up significantly, _well_ past minimum wage. It was a good incentive, as was the very minimal healthcare coverage and faux flexibility.

Faux because while the system _was_ flexible, it still demanded cleaners take a certain amount of jobs and could only bypass so many without being penalised by being locked out of premium customers. Those only received quality cleaners who had been with the company for well over six months with spotless records.

Hux thoroughly enjoyed the many ways in which senior supervisors could check on both cleaners and customers. Senior staff could access microphones and cameras on any phone while the cleaner was on the job and some used that function for off-site quality control. If Hux found out about that, he downgraded these supervisors immediately, though. Being on site was important. Hux himself had access to all staff apps. 

Built into the system were various ways of providing him with feedback on both his cleaners and his senior, supervising staffers. While on the clock, the app had to be turned on to log the hours and make sure everybody stayed on task.

Also, and he was proud of that as well, so the security centre could do its job if a cleaner said their codeword. Initially, the company had referred the security alert to local police, but it had proved to be far more effective to automatically record everything that transpired after the alert had been triggered and send local personnel over to settle matters. 

Several of his cleaners were very vulnerable people, and though the anonymity of the service protected them, that did not make them any less vulnerable if any of their customers accosted them. Its presence and the starting spread of outrageous tales of its effectiveness on the social media portion of the app for employee interaction had guaranteed a steady influx of new personnel. Things were going well.

He avoided Phasma studiously by sneaking in when she was talking to a prospective merger candidate and hid in his office, fielding job applications. They were videos showing the applicant cleaning for 30min. In Hux’s personal view, anyone using those 30min on anything other than part of one room was not doing a good enough job, but he had long since learned that not everyone had his standards. He was watching a young, slightly frazzled-looking person of indeterminate gender earnestly clean the bathroom of their crap apartment when Phasma’s shadow darkened his screen.

“Where were you? It’s almost five, boss.”

“Personal business,” he said quietly. She looked at what he was doing and let out an undignified snort, though he could tell by her unusual quiet intensity that something was off. The hairs at the back of his neck started standing up one by one.

“Why are you doing gruntwork? Let the flying monkeys sort this out and put your coat on, we’re having dinner.”

He consciously stopped himself from turning round to stare at her. Instead, he reluctantly clicked “approve”—he had not liked the look of the grouts in the upper left corner of the screen, but he was not above giving someone a chance. He had to let the local supervisor know, however, that AN990123 did need supervising. Then he turned and hunted for something to say as he looked her over.

“That seems very incongruous, since neither of us particularly enjoys eating.”

“Try something new every day. Come on.”

She was avoiding his eyes and seemed to buzz with nervous energy. She did not smell different, though, and looked well.

“Is…” _Name, name, name… brown hair, short stature, earnest, blue eyes, slightly pinched mouth…_ “ _Na_ stia coming along?”

Phasma’s face took on a rosy tint.

“It was her idea that we have an evening out, yes.”

“Why am I getting the feeling that the original set-up did not include me? Special occasion? 

Uncharacteristically, Phasma folded her large frame into the second chair that was only in the room to balance out the arrangement with his desk and the other chair.

“I don’t know. I think there maybe something she’s got planned. We’ve been going out for four years.”

“ _Four years!?”_ Hux felt his mouth hanging open. He had not realised it had been that long. Surely, it’d—no. she was right. That meant that he’d been running this company for almost five.

 _Fucking hell._ He did not say anything for a while, observing Phasma’s slumped pose. He had only ever seen her slumped when… well. He sighed.

“Congratulations. Why on earth would you want me at your anniversary?”

Phasma did not look at him. But she did not need to, her fist was clenching and unclenching, doing the talking for her.

“Where are we having dinner?”

“A restaurant.”

She was not looking at him, but something about her still suggested that she was vibrating in place with nervous energy.

“Did you—should you be—are you alright?”

She glared at him then.

“Yes, I’m fucking ‘alright’, Hux, thanks a fucking lot, but Nas… she doesn’t…”

Phasma broke off and took a deep breath, sitting up straight, eyes straight ahead.

“Does she—doesn’t she know?”

Phasma ran her hands through her hair and did not answer.

_Well, fuck._

“How do you want to handle this?” he asked, his voice all business. 

Phasma did not reply. Hux looked her over and then made a decision.

“She’s been going out with you for four years? Don’t you live together?”

A nod.

“Phone.”

“No, I—”

“Phone.”

Phasma unlocked and handed it over, Hux nose wrinkling at the state of the screen. Thinking, he took the cloth from its holster in the drawer and wiped it clean, then scrolled through the contacts.

He pretended not to see that Phasma was digging her fingers into her arms so hard the knuckles turned white.

It rang only briefly.

“Nastia! This is Hux, calling fro—yes, of course you can. Listen, this is about tonight, Phasma said that you had plans, well, there is an issue.”

He had been really good at this, once.

Patching things up with high-profile clients, it always got emotional and people got intense and he had spent many a phone call alternatingly cajoling, threatening, talking people down from all manner of financial cliffs, or sucked up so that they would not be lost as customers. This was what had gotten his superior’s attention in the first place rather than his formal qualities. 

In many ways, this was not that different. Phasma had not said anything the entire time and just listened to his end of the conversation, not that he had to say much. As he had expected, Nastia had already had an inkling that Phasma was a recovering alcoholic and it had never changed her attitude towards her.

After learning the basics, not that Hux knew more than the basics about Phasma's case, and repeatedly assuring him that she had never planned to toast their anniversary with alcohol, she just asked a lot of general questions, by which time Hux nodded encouragingly at Phasma and waved for her to leave. She got up, did what he assumed was an about turn and marched herself out of his office.

 _This_ _serious then,_ he realised.

He continued to give Nastia a brief run-through, explained about the ten bronze chips he had personally seen and explained some things she could do that she was already doing.

When she started thanking him profusely for the role he played in her life, he felt increasingly uncomfortable and ended the conversation as fast as courtesy would allow, then went to find Phasma, who was standing to attention right outside his office, face pale as death.

He handed her phone back.

“You’re good to go. Reservation is at seven. Show her the chips when you get home,” he said. For a moment, her facial expression, always carefully guarded, slipped, and he could see the rawness of her emotions underneath. He was grateful that like him, she usually made a point of having a neutral exterior. She took several deep breaths.

“I owe you one, boss,” she finally arrived at.

“Have a good night,” he replied.

She left.

He felt almost lonely for a second, his mind still so full of the encounter. He took his coat and told Mitaka to have a good night on his way out. Nas’s words followed him home, were in his ears as he took toothbrush, vacuum cleaner and what else was necessary and started in on the interior of his car.

 _You are her best friend. I am so happy she has you in her life. She does not have many people and I am so happy that she has someone who clearly_ gets _her, like you do! There are not many people who would have given her a chance, purple heart or not, but her parole officer always said that she had made great strides when she started working with you. It’s really a blessing._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux is better at taking control of situations other than his own.

He came to as the credits for a rerun of an old detective series just running. He’d been asleep for much longer than usual, it was almost five. His neck ached as he got up from the couch and switched off the TV. He got himself a glass of water and stared into the sink.

A positively glowing Phasma had bounced in yesterday. It had evidently been a good outing. As he watched her interact with customers through the company’s security system, he had wondered long and hard if he wanted… that.

Hux had always been very much opposed to any form of cohabitation, that was what he was getting away from, after all. But his mind kept creeping back to black eyes looking up at him, which he ultimately forbid himself from doing.

Water glass in hand, he turned and looked around his crap flat and imagined he was someone else seeing it for the first time. Entering through the corridor with the peeling paint, one stepped directly into the living room which was the centre of his life. Everything was clean, of course.

A large white carpet dominated the dark room. On it stood an icy blue couch with sharp corners that had appealed to Hux immediately when he bought it and in front of it a very simple glass tables. Directly opposite, against the wall, stood his television set. Under the window his desk, the only thing he had taken with him from his old life. There was nothing on it. He had repainted the windows and walls white, but the mystery stains the previous tenants had left had a life of their own and they kept reappearing.

There was another room which was always empty. Technically, it was the bedroom, and there was a bed, but he never really used after a couple of unwise initial experiments. There was a bathroom and a kitchenette off the living room with a storage cupboard which housed the organiser for his cleaning products and the products themselves.

A place for everything and everything in its place. The bareness almost reminded him of Kylo’s place. There were no memorabilia from either his old job or his home other than the whisky bottle and glass. Those had their own place and were a daily test and reminder. 

That was it. It was an unassuming flat in an unassuming block of houses built at the same time as similar housing blocks up and down the street. Every room had a charming view of a back alley and a brick wall directly opposite. He had taken to it immediately, and _after_ , it had been all he could afford.

He concluded that someone coming in here for the first time would assume nobody lived here. So much the better, really. He heaved himself up from the couch and padded into the kitchen, set out a bowl of cat food under Millicent’s watchful gaze, then padded into the shower.

He felt more awake than usual, his entire body feeling more… present. He was careful to observe his grooming regiment a little more thoroughly than usual.

For the first time in a long while, he looked himself over in the mirror. _Scrawny mess_. Pale, freckles clinging to his shoulders, giving a mouldy yoghurt appearance. He stood up straighter and tried to regain some semblance of his former confidence. He shaved, trying to work up the courage to meet his own eyes. After a long while, he did.

He noticed he did not feel the usual surge of intense, gut wrenching shame that usually came with sexual encounters on the job. The nausea and guilt which had him curl up into a ball under the warm water did not come. He had no urge to punch the wall or the mirror and give himself the same kind of injuries Kylo had given himself. There was just… nothing. He did not punch himself, or spit in his mirror image‘s face, nothing.

There was just… him. Slightly older, hair not as well-styled as in the past, but it was just… a man. He raised an eyebrow at himself. _Now what, Hux._

In front of the house, he was suddenly nervous, he noticed. He did not usually notice things like that nor allowed himself to notice them, but there it was. His entire body felt warmer than it usually did, flushed, anticipatory, somehow. Also, he noticed with growing concern, his trousers felt tighter than they should.

It would be difficult to do his round in this state, but it’d have to do.

As he entered, it was eerily quiet. He forbid himself to think about the possibility of Kylo not being here after all and forced himself to jump in right away, working as efficiently and quickly as he could.

However, as usual, working with his hands freed up his mind to think about his situation and that created and entire new problem.

The house offered so many possibilities. _Kylo, naked, spread wide open, draped over the kitchen counter. Kylo, hand and feet bound, lying in front of the hearth. Kylo, bent over a chair. Kylo, kneeling naked in the middle of the room._

He tried to ignore the ever insistent pulse in his groin and focused on getting the pattern in the carpet right, shining the surface of the table and counter until they shone, treating the marble.

Having finished every other room, he conscientiously took out his phone, opened the app, and tapped “break”.

Then opened Kylo’s door cautiously, heart in his throat, his eyes immediately darting to the man. He was sitting in front of his desk, headphones on, with a crestfallen expression, delivery coat on the floor next to him. Hux opened the door fully. The room was a _mess_ and a hungry spark ignited in his stomach.

With a few fast strides, he entered the room. When Kylo became aware of him, he took of his headphones, his eyes widening, as, with spreading awareness, he looked around at the room, his expression a mixture of resignation and annoyance.

“Didn’t I tell you to tidy up your room?” Hux said softly, staring at Kylo.

“It’s not as though you have any right to—” 

“You went against my direct orders.”

There was a silence, in which Kylo seemed to make up his mind about what to say.

“I forgot,” he said. “I—”

“Spare me your excuses. You will be punished accordingly.”

Kylo’s expression softened, and his head moved in a miniscule nod.

“You will bend over the desk and I will spank you until you have learned your lesson,” Hux tried.

Kylo turned beet read, and then nodded again and moved back to the desk, on which his laptop still showed an open word document. 

“Strip,” Hux added, and he had not known that he would until the word left his mouth.

Kylo turned and glared, but he did do it, he took off his sweater, exposing soft, pale skin and more muscle than any of Hux’s former partners had had, though a layer of soft flesh covered them.

Hux’s eyes were glued to the waistband of the trousers Kylo was pulling down, suddenly without looking at him. His legs were muscular and sturdy, and he forced himself not to look at Kylo’s penis. It was still imprinted on his mind from Tuesday, and he had to fight to keep himself from darting forward and running his fingers over the man. This reaction was very alien to him, he found. Unusual. He was not one for pleasure, really.

“Bend over the desk,” Hux said, slightly breathless, even though Kylo was already doing just that.

Heat surging from the pit of his stomach and burning through his entire body, he stood behind Kylo, marvelling at the firm, pale buttocks. He smacked them experimentally and watched them jiggle slightly with satisfaction. Cautiously, he looked for a reaction from Kylo, but there was nothing but heavy breathing.

Slowly, making sure that Kylo saw, he took off the black gloves that completed his work uniform and tossed them into the bin.

He started easy, with light smacks, working up an easy rhythm.

Kylo did not move. Hux changed positions somewhat to look at him and saw that he had closed his eyes. His mouth was open and he was panting slightly, his penis standing firm, but jumping forward with every impact of Hux’s hand. _Good_.

He slowed down the rhythm of his hand’s impacts somewhat, but increased their strength, to which Kylo responded by trying to squirm away most deliciously. 

Keeping his own increasingly heavy breath under control, he changed from side to side, the time between impacts varying, but the impacts becoming stronger.

Kylo jerked away from his hand, a soft moaning groan escaping him every time. His hands were digging into his forearms. Hux felt his pulse quicken when he saw Kylo’s knees starting to wobble slightly, Kylo starting to rub himself against the desk as every impact jerked his penis against the dark wooden surface.

 _Mine_. He could not feel the sting in his own palm, nor the sore strain of his lower arm, there was only Kylo, straining away from his hand in front of him, Kylo’s voice, Kylo resting his forehead on the desk helplessly, a groan escaping him.

Changing tack abruptly, Hux let up and grabbed Kylo by the neck, holding him down, his own skin set aflame by the heat emanating from the other man’s naked skin. He wanted to taste that skin, to devour his flesh. When Kylo’s forehead met the desk again and his thighs gave an involuntary twitch forward, seemingly vibrating in place, Hux gently let the fingernails of his left hand trail over one cherry red buttock.

“Do not disappoint me again,” he whispered, not trusting his voice at his normal volume.

Kylo bit off a moan, jerking his buttocks away from Hux’s fingernails and the sound made the hair on the back of Hux’s neck stand on end. Hux gently teased the other buttock with his fingernails.

“Did you hear me?” he breathed into Kylo’s ear.

There was a breathless pause during which Kylo frantically rubbed himself against the desk, half trying to get off, half trying to escape Hux’s still teasing hand, eyes closed, a deep peace on his features.

Hux, meanwhile, was on fire, consumed by the moment and the power underneath his fingertips, entirely wrapped up in the simple action of forcing down Kylo’s head and teasing his buttocks, listening to the other man breathe. He was trying to control his own shaky breath when Kylo spoke. 

“Yes, Master,” he said.

Blood roared in Hux’s ears like hammer blows and something large and wild uncoiled in him, turning him invincible. Still holding Kylo down in spite of his shaking hands, he teased his hand underneath him for Kylo to rub up against, delighting in the feeling of the other man’s penis in his hand.

“Good boy,” he managed to get out. 

Kylo came with a desperate groan, collapsing on top of both desk and Hux’s arm, legs shaking, eyes still closed, breath ragged. Hux extricated his hand from underneath, wiped it on the rag tucked into his pocket and then awkwardly knelt next to Kylo, easing the other man to the floor, where he promptly slumped to one side.

He sat next to him, stroking his hair out of his face, half filled with an insane, world-conquering power, half shy. He hardly knew the man.

When Kylo’s breathing had normalised somewhat, he cupped his cheek.

“Good that you have learned your lesson. Let’s get you a glass of water,” he said.

Hux left to get one from the kitchen, quietly made sure Kylo drank it, and then left Kylo, who was getting dressed to hurry to the bathroom.

Closing the palacial door behind him, he frantically groped at his trousers and took himself out, coming in two angry strokes, his knees refusing duty and summarily depositing him in front of the sink he had spurted into. His breath sounded as though he had run a mile, his entire body humming, the sound of Kylo’s little moans wrapping his mind in honey.

Hux made sure the bathroom was spotlessly clean before he went back to Kylo’s room, suddenly uncertain. Was he welcome… after?

He went back into the bedroom as though he owned it and caught a glimpse of Kylo’s almost relieved-looking eyes when he did. His hand was endlessly fussing with the hem of his designer jeans. There was a nervous energy to the man that he had not at first noticed, because it was so absent in the calmness he had exhibited during the beating.

“What are you working on?” Hux asked for something to say, nodding at the now black screen of the laptop. Anger flashed across Kylo’s face.

“A letter of application,” he said, sounding defeated.

“Show me,” Hux said.

Kylo snorted, but waved his arm in invitation. Hux winced at the state of the laptop’s keyboard and almost wanted to put his gloves back on, but instead folded his arms behind his back and watched Kylo type in the password that brought the desktop back to life.

 _What a mess._ Hux’s nose twitched. It was possibly the worst letter of application he had ever seen in any of his professional lives, even worse than the kind he would circulate among his office staff for a good laugh when he was still junior enough to hire people. It was worse than some of the applications people trying out as cleaners sent in, and those consisted of videos cleaning toilets.

“So… you do not want that job?” Hux said politely.

Kylo’s expression said it all as he scowled, his entire face screwing up, fiddling even more with his trouser leg. He looked ready to murder someone. Hux sighed. It made sense.

“Alright, I’m going to edit this. You’re going to give me all the information I need. Get over here.”

Kylo scoffed.

“And you’re the expert on job applications how?”

Hux’s right lip curled upwards slightly.

“Take it or leave it, _Ben_.”

Kylo glared, but then ran his fingers through his hair.

“Fine.”

Hux nodded at him as he put his gloves back on, turned to the laptop, and set to work, Kylo occasionally filling in information sullenly, half embarrassed. He had finished school with excellent marks and gotten good test scores, but had taken up and abandoned three different degrees at college, the last one what Hux considered probably a last ditch attempt (“Comparative Religious Studies”—did he make that one up?— preceded by a stint in engineering and economics before that).

Then of course he had worked for a host of different entry-level jobs, all vastly different and none of the stints lasting long. This must mean that Kylo’s says as a delivery boy were also numbered. 

This application was for an entry-level position at an advertiser that his mother must have used. Hux was pretty certain that without someone taking a personal interest, this was doomed to failure.

“Listen, I’m going to be honest”, Hux waited for the nod, “Your chances _are_ slim, but I would probably suggest using your connections to the best of your abilities, and that means talking to the people in question directly rather than sending in an application.”

He saved the document and turned to face him.

“In person, you can argue your case much better.”

Kylo did not look at him, his expression thoughtful, slightly dubious and his eyes very far away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux continues to be in way over his head, but he has never felt better.

The app had docked his pay once more for the long break and he was pleased at the efficiency of its inner workings. He soared through his morning, the memory of what had transpired between Kylo and him a warm blanket around his mind, wearing off only in tiny increments.

It only wore off slightly when he was back in head office, watching Phasma and Mitaka talk the staff of high-end customers through what they could expect if they signed up for their services.

Niggling doubt had crept in the way it always did, as his mind offered up memories in unsolicited comparison with what had happened between Kylo and him the day before.

He was able to ignore it all day Thursday and Friday, but on Saturday, he suddenly felt the wheels come off. Staring at his screen, he felt beads of sweat appear on his forehead. He reached up to wipe it and realised his hands had started shaking.

He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on paperwork instead, answering shareholder e-mails. After a while, and quite automatically, Hux’s hand wandered to the lower door of his desk, but then he remembered that there had long been nothing in there. Nervous energy kept coursing through him and he realised that his pulse was racing and as he sat up straight, his pulse started pounding in his temples.

Suddenly consumed with an emotion he did not care to examine more deeply, he thumped his desk repeatedly, a mirror of what he had done to Kylo earlier, but frenzied, uncontrolled, and fully intending to keep this up until he hurt himself.

A hand caught his arm and jerked it backwards unexpectedly, vice-like, straining his joint painfully.

“Stop it, boss,” Phasma said calmly, releasing his arm. He stared, he had not even heard her come in. She closed the door behind her and looked him over. “Spar with me.”

And they did.

Hux hated that it made his work overalls sweaty and hated the absurd ease with which Phasma could send him careening to the thick carpet of his office and hated the carpet and hated the hand she stretched out every single time to help him back up and hated the way his blows never connected and _hated_ until he was worn out. It all seemed so futile.

However, it _did_ hurt and make him sore, which was exactly what he was looking for.

“So,” Phasma said as they sat next to each other on the couch under the window overlooking the busy high street, her arm across the backrest, Hux sitting slumped, hugging his knees. _Like a fucking kid_. “What part of you are we beating up?”

He snorted, rubbing his sweaty face, but sat up a little straighter. He thought for a long while, his pulse throbbing in his various bruises.

“As a domme, do you ever—” He flushed under her suddenly raised eyebrow. “If you suddenly liked something from your past that you definitely did not like when it was done to you, but no you’re— is that—how about that?”

Both Phasma’s eyebrows were raised now and she gave him a very long appraising look.

“Did the other person like it?”

“Yes.”

“Can you be sure? Did you _make_ sure?”

“I… think so.”

“Then you need no shrink, well done, boss. But hitting your desk like that, now, that’s not normal.”

He rubbed his face again.

“Long fucking week.”

Getting up to pace, he realised that he could feel every inch of his body, sore and pounding with bruises which were forming, and in the background still the soft siren hum of Kylo’s flesh against his hand, Kylo’s moans in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Phasma stood and gave him an arch look, suddenly looking a little awkward.

“Well, I’m not paid enough to beat you up in a professional capacity and frankly, you’re not my type, either. I’m heading back down.”

She clapped his shoulder on the way out.

“Phasma?”

She half-turned.

“Thank you.”

She hit the door frame twice on her way out in recognition.

He did feel like a mess, and when he arrived home, far later than usual, he looked himself over in the bathroom mirror and winced when he saw the pattern of bruises that had formed wherever his wiry frame had connected with the floor.

Hux leant on the sink and stared into his face, trying to summon up the loathing that usually accompanied this action, like a tongue probing a tooth for its ache. Nothing came. Instead, he felt a strangely warm glow in the pit of his stomach.

For the first time in a very long while, he stretched out on the couch rather than sitting and changed channels rapidly, not lifting up the whisky glass as usual. Millicent watched him from the glass table in front of his couch, her look questioning. He reached out a hand and she jumped over. He tried not to wince as she settled on his stomach and started her rumbling purr, eyes closing and opening as he gently kneaded his fingers through her fur.

He flicked through the channels, but felt a strange restlessness and finally got up and winced his way into the kitchen, Millicent weaving around his legs excitedly. He did give her a treat and then dug through his sparse pantry. He settled on scrambled eggs.

The scent appeared almost alien and was such an unusual addition to his flat he tamped down the urge to open the window immediately to the freezing night air outside. Wisely, he decided against it, even though he fretted about the lingering smell. He ate standing up, leaning against the counter, Millie looking up at him expectantly. He looked back unapologetically as he finished his scrambled eggs, then immediately cleaned the kitchen.

Couch.

Sleep.

_“How long have you worked here, Armitage?”_

_“Six months, sir.”_

_“You are an asset to the company, to be sure.”_

_The signet ring had gleamed on his hand as he set down the tumbler._

_“Always so. Eager to please.”_

_There was an avuncular sort of amusement in the voice and Hux met his look with an easy smile._

_“It is easier to please some than others, sir, and the projected—”_

_“Well. There is a thing you could do that would be. Pleasing.”_

_And the hand with the gold, heavy ring had reached out, landing softly on his shoulder, and pushed him down. Hux had not fought, had not reacted. It had felt good. His naked skin against the surface of the desk had felt good. He had been desperately sore afterwards and bled for two days, but it had been… surprisingly unhorrible, really. Much less than encounters at school. And He had looked relaxed, pleased, grateful, even, and what could be better than that._

Hux sank down deeper, the surroundings becoming murkier, and a feeling of deep fear and shame growing in the pit of his stomach.

_Being thrown across his father’s knee, his kicking legs not being able to keep on the trousers viciously pulled down, blows hammering onto his exposed backside._

_A gaggle of boys pushing him against a wall after school, faces blurring into one another, unrecognisable but similar in their intensity and through it the growing darkness of his shame._

He woke with a start, his heart racing, and fumbled for the remote. He stared into the flickering images with unseeing eyes, his mind automatically wandering back to Kylo, the tension seeping out of him as a result.

Opening his laptop, for the first time in a long time, he forced himself to watch porn, just to see what it felt like. He searched for videos online, feeling grubby, and took out the pods of his headphones several times to make sure that _really_ no sounds escaped to the outside.

Then, sweating slightly, he tentatively began to type in key phrases.

He had never been one for porn, really, it was all too crass and polished for him, the bodies not looking like real bodies, all smells and sensations dulled and reduced to the visual. There were no people, no situations. And it was always so _messy_. He was not a fan of messes.

He tried to rouse himself but couldn’t. The oiled bodies in front of him where overwhelming and ultimately uninspiring. _You must be the only one to whom porn isn’t sexy, you fuckup._ But Kylo liked porn. Kylo liked very explicit porn.

In the end, he closed his laptop in frustration, glared at his uncooperative penis, which remained stubbornly flaccid, leant back on the couch, and closed his eyes.

His mind’s eye found Kylo and the various possibilities his glorious body offered far more. One image caught his eye, though, and it was that of a leather glove on an exposed white throat. His black work gloves would offer such a stark contrast to Kylo’s bright skin.

He had awaited Tuesday too eagerly, and when the day finally came, he made himself wait outside for a few minutes, smoking, before allowing himself to step into the house and starting his routine. He was on his own app’s shitlist for being so slow at this large, prestigious job. Of course he had taken the pay rate down to the regular rate again after he himself had taken over, but the app had thrown up a flag that if he did not increase his performance speed, he might be due for a review.

Taking a final drag from the cigarette, he gave his phone a wry smile. He would have to do a performance review of himself. He’d have to be strict. He tidied the butt end away, but suddenly heat crept up his neck. A performance review _based on a recording of him in action_. Now, that might solve his weekend porn problem.

Face red, he started on his routine, and doubled his usual speed and efficiency, all the faster to arrive at Kylo’s door.

He did not get that far, however.

Obviously, someone had not had a good day.

The upstairs bathroom was a mess, bottles littering the floor, clearly swept out of all cupboards and off all shelves, shards of a hand mirror glittering in the stark light, a shoal of razorblades precariously littering the floor where they had fallen from their container. Kylo, damn him, preferred the dangerous ones that Hux’s own grandfather had used instead of doing what any civilised man did these days and using an electric one.

Arousal sparked in the pit of his stomach and he paused the app, marching over to Kylo’s room, which was in a slightly less dilapidated state, the clothes shoved up against the hamper instead of covering the floor like a snow drift.

Kylo lay sprawled on the bed, his eyes widening in shock as he noticed Hux. Had he forgotten…? Well, Hux would remind him.

“Come.” He said and turned on his heel, marching back to the offending bathroom.

Kylo followed him into the bathroom and Hux could sense a strange tension running through him. Hux nodded towards the mess in front of him.

“Explain,” he said.

Kylo shoved him away, but stood still when Hux glared at him, arms crossed behind his back, legs shoulder width apart. Kylo glared.

“What’s it to you?” he growled, visibly embarrassed. “This isn’t _part_ of anything.”

Hux raised an eyebrow instead of stating that he was bloody well going to make it _some_ thing but let the silence of the pause that followed lengthen.

“ _Explain_ ,” he repeated, voice quietly dangerous as he could make it.

He was instantly rewarded with a sudden burst of angry frustration on Kylo’s face, which bloomed into rage.

“This is not my room, you never said—why the fuck do you even _care_ , Hux?”

Hux hesitated, looking Kylo up and down, who stood against the doorframe, starting to deflate, face murderous and miserable.

“Do you want me to care?” he said gently. It took a long while, and Hux was already reaching for his cleaning cart when Kylo suddenly spoke.

“Yes.”

“What do you need?” Hux asked quietly.

In the stark light of the bathroom, Kylo’s eyes were black.

“I need you to—I need control,” he said vaguely, almost inaudible, ears burning.

Hux felt possessive, elated. Kylo, though, looked small, and this was almost physically painful.

He needed Kylo’s magnificent pent-up anger back. With two easy steps, he was in his personal space and glared right at him, who, startled, glared right back.

Experimentally, grabbed the front of Kylo’s sweater. Kylo gulped.

“Why did you do this? Explain yourself,” Hux said in a very low voice. Kylo was getting almost cross-eyed in the attempt at looking down at Hux’s arm, face thunderous.

“I just had a fight with my boss, who runs the pizza place I deliver for. It’s such a shitshow, everybody is a fucking _idiot_ at that place, and—”

“Language,” Hux said silkily, tightening his grip on the sweater for emphasis. He could feel Kylo’s throat under his fingers as the other man swallowed and it was intoxicating. He held his hand in place so that he could feel that pretty throat swallow again.

“He put me on probation for getting two orders wrong, which was _not_ my fault, by the way, the orders were _labelled_ wrong, nobody would have done better, fucking—sorry, that idiot.”

Hux glared at him a moment longer, forcing himself to look into his eyes and not to eye the fist that still held the sweater with gleeful triumph. After a moment, he suddenly let go and took a step back, crossing his arms behind his back. Kylo’s hands immediately flew to his throat, touching it gently.

“Pick up these things,” said Hux, pointing at the brush and shovel clipped to his cart. 

“Fuck you,” Kylo countered, but he was already reaching for some of the spilled shampoo bottles. Hux cocked his head in reply.

“I will not tolerate being spoken to like that,” he said. “And I will no longer repeat myself,” he added, as Kylo glared, frustrated.

Hux found Kylo’s attempts at tidying almost painful to watch but watching him gently fume was amazing. When Kylo had given the wall that was covered in spilled shampoo a most cursory wipe-down, Hux told him to do it again.

“Why? It looks _fine_!” Kylo exploded.

Instantly Hux was in his personal space again, this time, putting his hand against the other man’s throat. Kylo froze, suddenly wide-eyed, hopeful.

“You need to learn how to clean up your own messes,” Hux hissed in his face, heart pounding in his temples and penis pressing painfully hard against his overalls.

Kylo emitted a groan and reached for the wall. Hux let him go, he staggered a bit, looking out of breath even though Hux had not even pressed his throat, had just rested his hand there. Kylo gave the wall a more thorough rub-down and Hux decided that this was most likely the best he could do.

He turned, standing up very straight and looking at Hux expectantly.

Hux made a show of inspecting the room by walking its length twice. 

“You did a credible job picking up after yourself,” Hux lied, “but your behaviour otherwise has been deplorable. It needs to be corrected.

“Yes, Master,” Kylo said breathily, dropping to his knees. Hux frowned, briefly, he had not had that in mind, but stepped closer, sitting on the bathtub to reach down and twine his hands in Kylo’s hair.

“You talk back and use very bad language,” he said, pondering options. _Control_ , Kylo had said.

Well.

He gently prodded Kylo’s mouth open with his thumb, encased in a new black rubber glove. Hux probed the dark warmth and watched Kylo’s eyes flutter shut briefly.

Easing his thumb in and out of Kylo’s mouth, he teased his booted foot between his legs. Kylo’s hips jumped forward and he could feel the heat through the polished leather as he rubbed against it, face flushed. Hux teased another finger into his mouth.

Hux could feel his pulse in his ears as he watched this beautiful man rut against him, sucking on his fingers. When Kylo’s movements became frantic, he removed his shoe, eliciting a muffled groan.

“Not yet,” he said, briefly putting his hand on Kylo’s throat again, waiting for his breathing to slow a little, feeling the hammering of Kylo’s pulse against his hand.

Then he started fucking his mouth with his fingers, then offered his boot again.

Hux kept alternating this until Kylo was buzzing with unfulfilled needs, frustration seeping out of every pore. Hux waited until his movements became erratic, then removed all stimulation and just looked at him. Kylo’s fist was opening and closing.

“Get up,” he said.

Kylo stood, with difficulty. Hux eyed the significant bulge and almost could not keep himself from tearing off his clothes. But he must lead by example.

“Good,” he said. “Turn,” he added.

Kylo stared at him in disbelief, but then did.

Hux only gave him a few light smacks in quick succession and watched the ensuing squirming. When he could hear the intakes of breaths becoming choppy, Hux stopped and stepped away again.

“Master, _please_.”

Kylo sounded truly desperate, and Hux knew that his brain would treasure the sound of his voice saying those words forever.

“Good boy,” Hux said breathlessly, and, maintaining eye contact, he reached down to gently rub Kylo’s penis through his clothes. The other man emitted a strangled groan and collapsed against Hux.

He was so overwhelmed with the sudden feeling of the other man’s weight against him, the smell of his hair in his face, the pressure of his thigh against his own that he lost himself and control in one glorious moment, Kylo’s arms heavy on his shoulders, his wet cheek pressed against his own.

He did not go back in to the office that day, texting Phasma a fake reason, but not getting a reply. His fake reason did not deserve one, either.

His entire body was still singing with a sort of after image of having Kylo’s weight fall against him.

For the long time in a very long while, he touched his body—all of his body—under the warm stream of the shower and then brought himself off with a muffled groan that surprised himself.

Hux emerged from the shower feeling as though he was a different, happier person, strangely floaty and soft around the edges. Foregoing his usual clothes, he wrapped himself in his silk bathrobe and sat down on the sofa, idly switching through the channels before landing on a televised cello concert and dozing off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux continues to clean up messes while ignoring some of his own.

His phone was ringing. Jerking upright he had answered it before he was entirely awake, heart still hammering in his chest.

“Hux. … Say again? … She has got a what? Where—I’m on my way.”

His dashboard told him it was 3am. He drove slowly so as not to skid over the icy road, his tires up to the challenge, but his ability to drive in these conditions not so much. A punishing headache kept his head in a vice as he turned the corner to the apartment building that Nastia and Phasma lived in.

A tearful Nas was already waiting for him downstairs and he was eternally grateful that she stopped herself before falling around his neck.

“She’s upstairs,” she said, voice muffled.

Hux nodded and stood up straight, taking one deep breath before ascending the stairs. He felt his own feelings fade away once more, replaced with a welcome sense of purpose. He could feel how quick his heartbeat still was, but that was all.

He entered the apartment with Nas’s key, who had sought refuge in his car. He looked around, saw the obvious signs of struggle in the bedroom and resisted the strong urge to put the covers back on the beds and straight it up before heading to the locked bathroom door.

It was eerily quiet, but putting his ear to the door he could hear raspy, jagged breathing—thank god!—and an odd clinking noise, metal jangling against tiles. He stepped back from the door.

“Phasma?” he said. “It’s me, obviously. How are you?”

There was no answer.

“I would feel much better if you could open the door. I can probably get it open somehow, but I’d rather not have to,” he added.

No response but more of the same.

“Phasma, Nastia and I are very worried about you because you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom and it seems like you had a bit of a rough night before. We need a good reason not to call an ambulance. It’s just me out here, Nastia is in my car. Can you tell me what is going on?”

Silence, more ragged breathing and jangling.

“Tap once if you can hear me.”

Silence, Then: _tap_.

_There we go._

“Wonderful. Are you hurt?”

No reply.

“Where are you? Can you describe where you are?”

“Bathroom,” came a very faint whisper.

“Yes. Which one?”

“Home.”

“Very good.”

Nothing for a while. _Now, how to bring her back, how to bring her back…_

“Can you please wash your hands for me?”

There was another long silence. Hux put his ear against the door again. Then the sound of running water and ragged breathing. The water was on for a long while, and his pulse slowed a little. Was the breathing becoming less ragged? He could not tell. He himself always found that doing something while feeling—not quite right helped bring back a semblance of normality. The water stopped.

“Excellent.”

Hux inched forward and tried to peer through the keyhole. Bit down a curse when he looked down the barrel of a pistol. Tried not to fall as he stepped sideways, still crouching. 

“Can you open the door? There’s just me out here, and you can obviously take me...”

Hux started blathering on about common memories of Phasma and him sparring, Phasma giving him self-defence lessons, how he got quite good at it, actually, but she was still much more capable than him, obviously. It took a long while, but after a long moment, the door opened and the gun emerged. Hux jumped to one side, glaring.

“Jesus _fuck_ , Phasma.”

Phasma stared at him, pale as a ghost, her eyes very wide and very dark, sweat covering her face. Her entire body was shaking like a leaf, and when their eyes met, she made a sound that Hux was sure was a bitten-back sob.

She swivelled the gun in her hand to hold the butt out to Hux. He did not ask where she even got this. Well. But it made sense that she considered safety more importance than following the terms of her parole. She was also a staunch supporter of the second amendment.

_Utter madness._

Hux held it out fastidiously and put it onto a shelf in the hall after clumsily emptying out the ammunition. Phasma still stood, shaking so hard she seemed to vibrate in place. 

“Let’s go find your medication, put the kettle on, we can have a bit of a sit down and I can let Nastia know that you have emerged.”

He carefully avoided touching her as he went past her into the bathroom, rooting around in the cabinet until he retrieved the orange container and handed it to her. It bent slightly under her grip and she hesitated a long while before opening it. Stood herself up straight. Maintained eye-contact as she took and swallowed her medication. Handed back the bottle.

He took it, careful not to let his hand brush hers. He jerked his head towards the flat’s little kitchen.

“Kettle. You ned a cuppa, you look like hell warmed over.”

She marched herself over there and collapsed onto one of the stools as he called Phasma’s phone from his, as he made tea, informing the crying Nas that things were fine now but that they needed to disappear a gun.

She came up again, eyes swimming. He briefly took her to one side to see how she was and talk. She was not hurt, but visibly shaken. When she knelt next to Phasma, who was looking uncharacteristically small, holding her cup of tea, he could see that she had been a very good choice.

Nas was her usual mousy, collected self again, and spoke to her partner in quiet tones, careful to always keep a perimeter between the two of them. The real clue was in Phasma’s shoulders, however, which first untensed, and then straightened back from their uncharacteristically hunched position. Whatever Nastia was saying had a balmy effect. 

Hux left, the gun an unwelcome weight in his pocket, and felt a sudden surge of homesickness he had not felt in years. He was so tired.

In his flat, since he would not be able to get to sleep anyway, he texted a former… business associate and asked him if he wanted to buy a barely used, almost certainly illegally purchased firearm. He got a very bemused reply back a few moments later, asking for an image. He sent it to the contact labelled “Mr C.”, Dameron said he’d look into the matter.

The name stemmed from a time when some of his clients had needed something to take the edge off after long negotiations. Dameron provided both Cs and more and was generally reliable to keep things to himself. They had both been very… surprised when they turned up at the same meeting, he there by himself, Dameron with his husband, who had been even more of a surprise to Hux since Dameron and Hux had had… _an encounter_ in the past.

Hux knew very little about firearms other than air rifles that he and his father had occasionally used for clay pigeons, and even in these he had never really taken an interest, though he was an excellent shot.

Back home, he wrapped the thing in a towel, too his set of envelopes out of their box and put the gun in in their place, taping it shut with duct tape. _Where now._

Settling on his couch, he first read an e-mail about how the new cleaners were doing whom they had acquired in the merger. He had bought another start-up out from under the owner and the cleaners had been absorbed into his scheme. The small company had been a local outfit and, Hux knew, clearly inferior to the First Order.

Hours later, he found himself searching for news about the Senator’s campaign, but came up with few news. Her opponent was not likely to win unless the country did even more of a right turn, which Hux found very unlikely. He felt vaguely sick with fatigue.

He stared at the face on the campaign website. He still wore the heavy ring, and Hux could almost still feel it digging into his neck, turned the wrong way around by his owners actions.

He forced himself to concentrate on the face again. The years had been much kinder to him than to Hux. He made himself meet cold blue eyes in the smiling face.

Finally, he forced himself to his feet. 

Showered. 

Tea.

Put out cat food.

Hux answered the phone on his desk on the first ring when he saw it was Mitaka, who was not with a client, but clearly fielding customer enquiries. 

“Boss?”

He sounded hesitant.

“Yes?”

“There is a client requesting contact information for one of our cleaners. Um.”

“Mitaka, you know what the terms and conditions—”

“Um. They cancelled the Tuesday appointment and then asked for a cleaner’s number Their ID is MC-37. The name they gave is, well. Yours. The cleaner on the job must have—”

Heat crept up his neck, making his collar tight.

“Thank you, I will look into the matter.”

His app pinged. His Thursday clean had been cancelled. There was a pending request to move it to Saturday. He frowned, steepling his hands in front of his face, thinking, thinking.

He caved. Of course he did. It was so foolish. But he had given his number—his _personal_ phone number, the number that only a handful of people had in the world—to Kylo.

At least he hoped it was Kylo.

_This is Hux. My manager has just reminded me strictly not to give my phone number to customers. How can I help you?_

He sent, heart in his throat, but his phone buzzed moments after.

_It’s kylo_

_it just occurred to me_

_that i havnt got your number_

Hux rolled his eyes.

_You could have asked me on Satuday. Why did you cancel Thursday, by the way?_

The rapid succession of buzzes made him regret his decision.

_thats 3days away_

_mum asked me to cancel she’s in on Thursday_

_no reply yet on application_

_how long do you think do i hae to wait_

_until they turnme down_

Hux exhaled deeply.

_Kylo, I’m working. It may take quite a while, it’s not been that long. Stop fretting. Things will be fine._

There was no reply after that and he felt strangely bereft.

He watched Phasma come in looking her normal self, if a bit more carefully held together than usual, and do her normal job with the same professionalism as ever. Dameron texted that he had found someone who might quite like to buy a gun. He needed to ask Phasma if the thing could be traced back to her somehow but did not know how and took her out to lunch instead.

She looked miserable and a low undercurrent of anger seemed to run through every movement she made once she had turned off her blank customer service exterior. He watched her bite into a sandwich morosely and made a decision. He leant slightly closer to her.

“I made that senator’s son give me a blowjob. Among other things. We’re having a great time together.”

Phasma chocked on the sandwich, coughed, stared at him, coughed some more.

“What the _fuck_ , boss.” She clapped his shoulder briefly, a spark of her usual self appearing in her eyes. “What am I supposed to say to that? Good on you? This can end terribly? Is he as much of a brat as I thought?”

Hux smirked.

“That… has its upsides. I do like… brats.”

She pointed at his hand.

“Is that what that was about?”

He shrugged, aware of the redness threatening to creep up his neck.

“Sort of. I’m—I would say ‘out of practice’, which is hardly accurate. I am not really good at this sort of thing.”

She gave a very hollow, mirthless laugh.

“The senator’s son. This can really end up biting you in the ass, boss. What is that to him? Bored past time? Previously untried thrill?”

Hux bristled and made to reply, then felt a sudden mild nausea when he realised he had no idea why Kylo had so blithely gone along with everything.

“I… don’t know. But I don’t think so.”

“Well, I hope you’re right with that assessment.” She drained her water. “You really _suck_ at picking the right person for relationship advice, boss.”

He tore off a corner of her sandwich.

“You’ve done alright for yourself.”

She did not reply, but the quiet smile said it all.

He could not banish the thoughts that Phasma had planted in his mind, but he could not ignore the way his distracted mind replayed pictures from their last encounter, either. In the end, he did not stop himself from taking out his phone.

_How is your backside?_

Hux felt odd, his office too small, his clothes too tight somehow.

_im writing at my laptop standing up_

Hux smirked and went back to work.

In the back of his mind, he was groping for something to say to extend the connection, something tangible.

_What is the state of your room?_

A picture came back a few seconds later that showed the room in its usual poor condition.

_Disgraceful. We will have to find a way to correct that. And you may not touch yourself before I say so._

He realised with some surprise that he was half-hard himself. Not too long ago, Kylo’s punishment would have been laughable to him himself, a man of a maybe once-a-months-habit. Now, however…

After long moments, his phone buzzed.

_yes Master._

He suddenly was very aware of his work overall straining over his penis, rolled his hip forward and gasped as hips jumped forward a second time, uninvited, putting even more pressure on him. He hurried to the staff bathroom, breathlessly jerked himself off and bit down on his hand as he came, seconds later.

He looked at himself in the mirror and felt like slapping the flushed face looking back at him. He was in deep, deep trouble. He had not felt like this since… he had never felt like that, if he was being honest with himself.

He made it through to the weekend, though his week seemed incredibly empty all of the sudden, though he kept himself as busy as ever.

Lunch with his senior shareholders, and Hux almost felt like a person again when he unzipped the garment bag. He always felt better in a suit.

He and the shareholders talked some options of branching out and becoming international. Specifically, Europe. He wanted Europe. And he knew just the place to start, too, and he almost could tell himself that it was not so that he could look through his future cleaner’s files for ghosts.

Friday brought more phone calls and complaints from Phasma about the cleaners they had acquired from the other service in the merger. He promised to look into the matter.

Work out.

Cleaning routine.

That meant cleaning his flat, as well as his office, though he would never admit to that in front of Phasma. He had listed MC-37, his own cleaner identity, as the person in charge of that.

He had gotten much faster, he noticed, as he finished the ground floor and pressed pause to go to Kylo’s room. Maybe it was the fact that he had more thoughts racing through his mind than usual, however, especially the package in his flat looming large. 

Kylo was standing in his room, and in spite of his size, he managed to look almost shy as he turned to look at Hux. He was back in jeans and a t-shirt, which looked brand new. Kylo, however, seemed feverish, his hair wild tangles, dark shadows under his eyes. _Late night last night?_ He fought the brief stab of jealousy. The room looked… different, bereft of its usual carpet. Hux decided Kylo must have ‘tidied up’ to the best of his abilities.

Hux came in slowly, suddenly aware that this sort of scenario was too juvenile for him and he would have to pick something different next time as it made him feel slightly queasy. He stood up more straight, folding his arms behind his back, walking a slow perimeter, the way Phasma did when she looked at something.

He was also trying to gauge from his response if Kylo was looking for praise or punishment. Apparently, it was both. _Greedy_.

“We will have to teach you how to make a bed properly,” he said archly and was delighted by how Kylo bristled. 

“Strip,” he said, and felt a thrill at seeing how quickly the other man started pulling at his clothes.

“You’ve done well,” he said, “though there are obviously a few things we have to,” he made a pause to stare at Kylo’s penis, “correct.”

The flush on Kylo’s face was a delight.

“Kneel,” he said. Kylo swallowed, then did.

Hux felt heat bloom up in his entire body as he looked down at the face turned up at him, excited and nervous.

He briefly cupped the other man’s cheek, just looking, feeling the connection between them.

Kylo licked his lips and stared straight ahead, at Hux’s crotch. Hux pretended not to notice, even though all heat had pooled in his groin. He felt embraced by Kylo’s familiar scent, though it seemed off today somehow, slightly acrid. 

“Let’s see,” Hux said. “No clothes on the floor, that is good. No tissues, also good. But the state of your bed, now that is … unfortunate.”

Sudden anger flared across Kylo’s face.

“It looks perfectly _fine_.”

“No talking back,” Hux snapped, and was gratified to see Kylo’s expression soften. “Take off the sheets,” Hux ordered.

Kylo’s expression was thunderous, but he did, making a bad job of it, dropping them on the floor, then turning around to Hux, glaring.

“There, happy?”

“Attitude, attitude. Now get the new sheets.”

“Are you making me do your job for you?” Kylo sneered suddenly.

Hux was at his side in two steps.

“I _said_ no talking back. Lean over the bed, now,” he snapped.

Kylo did, suddenly eager.

Slowly, savouring the moment, Hux came to stand behind Kylo. Smacked him experimentally. Kylo jumped back a little, but did not move away, his breath coming ragged. Again, and he gave a little groan, and Hux could feel his heat even where he was standing. _So beautiful_. Hux felt the fire consume his insides and brought his hand back again. _You’re looking for a smacked bottom, Armitage._

Stopped. 

Blood roared in his ears.

Kylo stood, waiting, for a long moment.

“Master, please,” he breathed.

Hux did not move, suddenly numbed by the incredible wave of shame. Hux, for a split second, thought he could see them standing there, Kylo, gloriously naked, beautiful like a spoilt prince, and him, in his faintly dusty work overalls, pale, expendable. _Pathetic_.

Kylo looked over his shoulder, face flushed. Hux’s arm had sunk back to his side. He could see Kylo’s erection. His face was flushed, but now also puzzled. He straightened a little, still excited, flushed.

“Hux? Please?”

Ben’s sincere tone held him. Hux stared in his eyes, but all he could see there was honesty, and lust, excitement, confusion. _Yes._ Unbidden, his heart soared. He took a breath and pushed him back down, Kylo letting out a relieved sigh, eyes fluttering shut.

Hux decided to be kind to both of them and slowed down, savouring each strike.

“Stand still,” he said, holding on to Kylo’s hip to press him back into place.

He gave him a series of light smacks, watching Kylo’s arms sink further and further down, until his forehead was leaning on the bed, breath ragged, only his slightly greasy hair visible. Whenever he jerked away from Hux’s hand, Hux stopped and guided him back into position, teasing the reddening area with the fingernail of one finger.

The ragged intake of breath was his immediate reward. 

He continued smacking him, no real force to the blows, Kylo’s backside turn delightfully read, his erection leaking. He stopped to admire a neat handprint, stroking it flutteringly.

Kylo gave a delicious squirm and groaned.

“Stand still,” he admonished, smacking him lightly back into place. Kylo squirmed in place.

Hux brought his hand back again.

SMACK

Kylo gave a small yelp and barely stopped himself from jerking away. 

“Thank you, Master,” he said breathlessly, sending a spark of lust through Hux, which propelled back his arm by himself.

This was so delightful he had to see if it happened again.

SMACK

Kylo bit back a groan.

“Thank you, Master.”

Hux felt that he could not hold on much longer, his overalls too tight, his penis also being pressed into his clothed with every impact of his hand. He forced himself to think of other things, to distance himself from his feelings. It was much harder than usual, his body would not let him.

He felt feverish as he repeatedly brought his hand back and smacked the increasingly red and hot buttocks before him, Kylo responding to each impact with a moan and a “Thank you, Master”.

Hux revelled in the power he was given, in getting to do this, to this beautiful man.

When he noticed Kylo’s breath getting ever more erratic and his penis straining after every impact, he stopped, gently stroking down Kylo’s neck to his nape, being rewarded with a full-body shudder, Kylo leaning into his touch.

“Good boy,” he said into Kylo’s ear. He noticed once more that his scent was different, off, not entirely healthy.

“You deserve a reward,” he whispered into the silence.

He helped Kylo ease into a lying position, stroking his skin with the tips of his fingers until his breathing had slowed down. His penis was still straining in position, though. Hux kept running his fingernails over the stretches of exposed skin, gently caressing his hip and thighs, always stopping shortly before touching the penis. Kylo’s eyes were still closed, his breath heavy.

Up close, the vaguely unhealthy notes of his scent were even more prominent. Hux found himself wondering when he had last washed. It was not altogether unpleasant, just stronger than usual.

His hands fluttered over the naked side, 

“Let’s get you into the shower and clean you up,” he offered. Kylo shook his head, not meeting his eyes.

“No, Hux, I—” Kylo’s voice faltered and he shrugged. “I don’t want to shower,” he said.

“Alright, Ben,” Hux confirmed, frowning slightly, resting both palms warmly on Kylo’s side, then resumed the gentle stroking, plan formed. He fluttered his hands closer to Kylo’s penis.

“Have you touched yourself?”

A pause and a deep breath.

“No, Master,”

“Good boy. You have show great self-control and patience. That shall be rewarded.”

Undprompted and with a moan, Kylo surged up and around, fumbling with the zipper of Hux’s overall, freeing his straining penis and sucking it into his mouth breathlessly.

Hux’s resolve almost did not survive the onslaught, and distancing himself from his feelings did not work as well as it usually did. He held on to his self-control for dear life, but felt the tell-tale pressure building inexorably.

Kylo never had the chance to build up any sort of rhythm. When Kylo’s tongue clumsily swirled the head of his penis, Hux came with a strangled groan, hands tangling in his hair, his vision red with the birth and death of galaxies.

“Good boy,” he reiterated weakly, hands still tangled in Kylo’s hair.

Looking up at Hux in wonderment, Kylo’s face was flushed, his lips very red and puffy. Hux gently pressed him back into the bed, Kylo’s breath hitching. Hux stroked a line down from chin to groin when he was lying down.

Then knelt in front of Kylo, who suddenly jerked his legs closed and sat up.

“NO, I’m…” he covered himself, looking mortified. “You shouldn’t have to…”

Hux forced himself not to move.

“But I’d like to,” he said plainly, looking at Kylo’s downcast eyes.

“I’m not…”

Hux sat down next to him and reached over to cup his cheek awkwardly, trying to turn his face towards him.

“I’m never going to make you do anything you do not want to, Ben,” he said earnestly. He did not look up, but nodded, biting his lip. Hux waited a moment, then decided.

“You may touch yourself, Kylo. Would you like me to watch?”

Kylo’s fists, tangled in the bedsheets so hard the knuckles were white, relaxed.

“Yes, Master,” Kylo said and quickly took hold of himself.

He did not last longer than Hux, covering himself and the discarded sheets on the floor in spurts of cum. Hux fought not to wrinkle his nose, _that_ would have been entirely preventable.

“Well done, Kylo,” Hux said gently.

Kylo was breathing heavily, and looked up at him with a wondrous expression. Hux reached out gently put his hair behind his ears so that it no longer fell into his face.

A fine sheen of sweat was covering him, and Hux knew that he was not much better off. The hair in his hands was slightly dull, and now his thighs were equally… not in a good state. Hux took hold of the sheets efficiently and made to clean Kylo up, but a small movement of his hand stopped him.

“I—” he faltered, his expression mortified.

Hux made a decision. He dropped the sheets, cupped Kylo’s chin and forced his face up to meet his eyes.

“I’m going to run a bath and get in it. You can choose if you want to get in with me.”

Kylo’s eyes fluttered shut, his jaws working as he thought. He gave a miniscule nod.

 _Great. You yourself can’t even stand the sight of you, naked._ Hux ignored the voice, ignored anything but the small, broken expression he had briefly seen on Kylo’s face. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long overdue conversation.

He had spotted the large bottle of luxury bubble bath soap while cleaning and now squirted a generous amount into the full tub. It was large enough to easily accommodate both of them, larger than even the tub in his old apartment had been.

Forcing himself not to think about what he was doing, he stripped, folded his clothes onto a nearby stool, then sank into the water. The warmth surrounding him almost made him light-headed and he felt a tension in his shoulder relax he had not even known he had been holding.

Then, he waited, warmth seeping into his every pore, making him far too aware of his body.

He did not have to wait long. The sheet-wrapped form of Kylo appeared in the doorway like the statue of a Greek god come to life. Hux swallowed, feeling languid. Kylo hesitated, then dropped the sheet and got in.

Hugged his legs.

Put his chin onto his knees.

Hux looked at him and how forlorn he looked.

“Bad day?” he ventured.

“Until you came, yes,” Kylo said, his voice too small for such a man. Hux felt a sudden wave of possessiveness course through him. Kylo was magnificent, he should be commanding armies, should be looked up to by thousands, and Hux was the one he answered to. _Belonged_ to.

Hux let his hand float through the foam and looked at the bubbles left on his palm.

“Believe me, I’ve had my fair share of those,” he said. A memory turned up in his head. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me, but I know that one of the other cleaners found a bloody razorblade in the bathroom once. Is that… what about that?”

To his great surprise, Kylo’s torso rumbled as he snorted.

“I cut myself shaving, that’s all. See this birthmark?” Kylo pointed at his neck. “I keep nicking it and it… really bleeds.”

Hux was more relieved than he would have believed beforehand.

“That’s good to know,” he said, voice thick. “I was worried it had been a… bad day.”

Kylo looked far away.

“No, they haven’t gotten that bad in uh, a _while._ Do you think that’s why we. Um.”

“Like playing like that?“ Hux shrugged, a small frown on his face. “I don’t think so,” he said then. “It probably depends on who you ask. But if you don’t want to continue because you’re worried—” he did not dare look up from his hand. 

“NO! No.”

“Have you done anything like this before?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to,” Kylo said, looking at his knees. “Not that that makes it potentially less fucked up.”

“A friend of mine always says not to do anything you cannot talk about and not to do anything that makes you feel bad about yourself later. How did you feel after?” _And how are you doing on that score, you fucking hypocrite?_

A slow smile spread on Kylo’s features, flooding Hux with warmth.

“Great, actually. Better than—really great.”

“Me, too,” Hux said. _Yeah, when you weren’t busy trying to beat yourself up about it, you fuck-up._

“Have you done this before?” Kylo asked.

“With one other person, but I did not enjoy it as much,” Hux said truthfully. _Because you were drunk out of your skull and Poe was high, you mean, and both of you decided to never mention it again._

Kylo’s smile broadened.

Following an impulse, Hux stretched out an arm. After a short moment of hesitation, Kylo allowed himself to be turned around so that his back was lying flush against Hux’s chest.

The feeling of vertigo returned, Hux allowing himself to luxuriate in the feeling of letting his hands run over the planes of Kylo’s chest, caressing his nipples, the broad expanse of his torso, anything he could reach, hungry to claim his territory.

Bending down to breathe in the scent of Kylo’s hair deeply, he stopped, and instead gently poured water into it from his cupped hands. Kylo did not move.

He washed Kylo’s hair. He had never done anything as sappily _romantic_ before. If he was being completely honest with himself, he did not normally even enjoy being naked with his partners if it could be avoided. And now. Well. This was unexpected.

When he was done, he noticed that his own erection was pressing up against Kylo’s back, who was breathing heavily and leaning back into him purposefully.

Languidly, he followed the sternum lower, gently caressing the softer plane of the stomach and lower.

Kylo jumped and breathed in sharply as Hux’s hand closed around his penis, caressing the head gently with two fingers. Hux shifted in the water to gain greater purchase. The fact that they were of a height did not do anything for his being able to reach what he wanted to.

Having manged to move to achieve greater manoeuvrability, he cupped Kylo gently in his hand, then traced both thighs as far as his hands would allow.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hux heard his own voice say in a tone of voice he did not recognise. He saw that the tips of Kylo’s ears had turned red, and knew that his own face was probably burning.

He kept stroking gently, almost absent-mindedly returning time and again to Kylo’s erection, his own straining against Kylo’s body.

He was a man possessed, filled with a hunger he had never felt before, heady with the need to caress every single square centimetre of Kylo’s skin, which was so unexpectedly soft.

It took far longer than their first desperate encounters, and Hux felt the warm glow seep into his every poor when he came, rutting against Kylo, and Kylo shortly after, flopping backwards against Hux, boneless, warm, perfect.

“Hux is your last name, right? What’s your first name?” Kylo said.

Hux was distracted by the way he could feel Kylo’s pulse against his chest.

“Armitage, but nobody calls me that,” he said before he could think about whether he really wanted Kylo to know his full name.

“Hux it is then,” Kylo said.

“Very well, Ben.”

“You know, I hate my name, but—you say it differently somehow,” Kylo said.

Hux did not know what to reply to that so he got out of the tub.

He avoided Kylo’s eyes as he towelled himself dry and only turned around to face him again when he had to because his clothes were folded on the stool next to the tub.

Kylo’s eyes were very round and had an expression Hux could not look at long. He was glad that his skin was reddened already because of the heat.

He stepped back into his clothes.

Zipped up his work overalls.

“Will you get in trouble? After all, we’ve-- you’ve spent two hours … not cleaning.”

Hux snorted. “As long as your mother does not come back unexpectedly—and she’s out on Tuesdays and Thursdays?—I will not be in trouble. Though my pay does get docked if my breaks are too long. Do not worry about me,” he added, as he saw dismay creep onto Kylo’s face. “It is more than worth it.”

He took a fresh towel and held it out.

Phasma was in when he came in, holding a sheaf of paper for him to sign with the triumphant air of a victorious conqueror.

“There you go,” she said, letting the papers _thunk_ onto his desk impressively. “They folded instantly, the lot of them.”

“ _Excellent_ work, you’re due a bonus,” Hux said, feeling pleased.

Phasma shook her head.

“Nah, boss. You overpay me as it is.”

Hux cocked his head.

“That is _untrue_ , Phasma, and I would appreciate it if you did not question my ability to assess how much an employee is worth to a company, and you are worth every cent.”

Phasma looked more pleased than Hux had… _ever_ seen her, really.

Hux soared through the rest of the day, and, lifting the whisky glass up to his nose that evening, felt neither the familiar guilt, nor the familiar harsh longing. Maybe the ghosts were really firmly in the past.

The whisky had been his father’s favourite brand, and one of the worst fights of his life had occurred in the distillery when they had visited it one summer. _Useless. Ungrateful and useless, you were a horrible son._

He had moved out by the end of it, and never looked back. _Nonsense._

Of course he had.

Families were messy and no ties ever cleanly cut. He had still been back for the holidays, and was a nervous wreck every single time. It was when he had started drinking to take the edge off, only that there had been an increasing number of edges.

He had not even had the excuse to himself that he was a social drinker, because he in fact never did drink socially, preferring to start and end the day with a pick-me up instead. It had been a bad time. It’d never gotten to the point where he couldn’t hold down a job, but the creeping shame had not been good for him.

It had always also gone against his need to keep control of his life, and when the wheels had come off entirely, it had been the end. _Pathetic._

Having come back from that, he kept the bottle around. In his heart of hearts he knew that he did not even particularly _like_ the stuff, but it was potent and got the job done. _Weak._

He shook his head, like dislodging a fly, and went to make himself a cup of tea.

His phone pinged.

He almost spit out his tea.

Kylo had sent him… pictures. They were explicit, and they were not of Kylo. They were other men, in different situations and combinations, having various things done to them.

He felt his flush creep over him again. _Wanton._

 _Are these a request?,_ he texted back.

_maybe we could try some of these Master?_

Hux had to pause and think for a moment. _Could_ they? He considered the images and his feelings about them. He usually went along with what his partners asked of him. But Kylo deserved more.

A man with a blindfold. _His hand on Kylo’s naked skin, who was unable to see him._

A man tied to the bed. _Kylo, helpless, at his mercy, as he teased his penis and made him suck him._

A man licking a boot. _Who would want spit on his shoe?_

A man lying across the knees of another man, being spanked. _Hold still, Armitage, or else_.

A man’s penis being tied up in a complicated way. _He could just see that only Kylo, the memory of his penis imprinted on his brain._

A man being beaten with a riding crop. _The stripes would look glorious on Kylo. Hux still had one that he had used on himself in the past._

A man being slapped across the face. _No talking back._

A man being choked by his lover sitting on him. _His hands on Kylo’s pale throat, Kylo’s eyes wide. Kylo’s hands on his throat, Hux fucking him in spite of his fighting back._

A man, tied in complicated knots, suspended from the ceiling. _How?_

A man, dressed in lace, the bra straining over his pecs. _Shut up, you fucking sissy. A real man would…_

_Yes to 1, 2, 5, 6 and 8. No to 3, 7, 9 and 10. I don’t even know how to suspend people from the ceiling, to be honest, that’s rather more specialised. How important is that to you?_

_i#m honestly happy with w/e we do_

They texted back and forth, describing fantasies to each other. After half an hour, Hux told Kylo to kneel in front of his bed and get himself off, as he did the same, coming after an embarrassingly short time. The ping came not long after that.

 _thank you Master_.

Hux felt a strange sensation and after a while realised that he _missed_ Kylo, missed the feeling of his skin under his hand missed his scent. He deliberated telling him that, but even he had not sunk that low just yet.

_Aren’t you worried people will hear you?_

He asked instead, wondering about Kylo’s exhibitionist streak. Everything about him was so loud and plainly in sight, all his thoughts and feelings plastered across that face.

_no one here except me_

Hux deliberated, then dialled.

He found it impossible to hang up the phone even past a time at which that would have been reasonable.

Kylo, wandering about the house, making himself a snack, told him about what growing up with the senator and her businessman husband had been like. He had been alone a _lot_ and often been left in the care of his uncle, with whom he’d fallen out when he was a teenager, though.

His parents worked better long-distance and could be happy together a lot longer than the relationship allowed, really. When his parents had divorced two years ago, he had completely cut off contact with his father and never spoke to him anymore. He blamed his mother, though, and Hux found it difficult not to roll his eyes at some of the things Kylo said. Of course it had been subjectively horrible for Kylo, but… well. Worse things happened at sea.

Kylo told him about growing up on the campaign trail, because they’d basically always been on one. His mother was a very hands-on, meet-the-citizens kind of person, and he’d tagged along. Anything he did had been read as either an endorsement or condemnation of his mother, and Kylo thought that deep down, she did blame him for doing badly some years in which he was not doing well.

The fierce glow of protective pride was as a surprise even to himself when it came. He could not abide the thought of anyone treating Kylo badly.

Hux stayed reticent on the topic of his past, feeling shame wash through him. He did give Kylo the basics, however, family troubles, boarding school far off, riding the celtic tiger straight across the Atlantic and into a business position which he downplayed considerably ( _you were never worth the place you ended up in, you useless fuck-up)_ , then the crash, being made redundant, role as a cleaner.

Kylo listened to all of that with surprising attentiveness and expressed sympathy in all the places Phasma had. He marvelled at that, most of the bad things that happened in his life had clearly been his fault, why did nobody realise that.

After hours, there was nothing much more to talk about and they still stayed on the phone, none of them wanting to hang up. _Pathetic_. Hux swatted away the voice and listened to Kylo’s sleepy words on why he liked science fiction and had always thought of joining the army but space marines were not real.

Then nothing. He put his phone next to his head and stretched out on the couch, dislodging a disgruntled Millicent who would take her revenge later that night by lying on his head. He listened to the quiet breathing and fell asleep, for the first time in years without the TV on.

_The dreams were vague, as though seen through a haze, but not the drunken haze he so well remembered. It was as though a thick sheet of glass was between him and the customary scenes of horror a collection of which he saw most nights. Today, everything was muted, and he realised that he was lying down, seeing them on the TV. His former psychologist would have a field day with this bullshit, he thought, smiling to himself, as he turned and buried his face in Kylo’s arm._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux and Kylo come up against the limits of their game and should probably face the fact that this is more than casual. They don't.

“Boss, we have to re-schedule the meeting to Wednesday morning,” Phasma said, poking her head around his door. “And—parade dress, it’s time you got out of these overalls.”

Hux did not reply. It was true, there was no real reason why he wore them into the office, he did not need them for quality control. He shoved that thought aside to be thought about later. He knew there was a reason why even years after being CEO of this company he was still wearing them. Phasma’s face told him that she understood more of that than he liked and he gave her an icy look.

“I must say that I don’t at all understand what you mean,” he lied.

She snorted in reply.

“The interview is right after, boss.”

Oh yes, the interview. He shoved that thought aside, too. The magazine had been in touch with him through Mitaka and Phasma, and one of them—most likely Phasma—had accepted the bid. Now he had to go through with that, even though he thought his days of giving speeches and giving interviews were over. 

Though he had been good at that. His employees had always liked and looked up to him, as he was an underdog story and gave them the illusion that they might make it, too 

He felt apprehension course through him when he opened the door on Tuesday and started his routine. He made sure not to look at papers when emptied the bins and pretended not to see the name. He was probably wrong about what he had seen, anyway.

The first floor brought a coat from a delivery company thrown half-way across the floor, lying crumpled against the bathroom door in a heap. _No more delivery, then._

Well. Given the impression he had formed about Kylo by now he could see how he might be difficult to employ. He did not need the money, and he was often unfocused. It was clear that these jobs were not necessary for him and every employer probably knew that.

Hux still felt for him, and felt a weirdly protective anger on his behalf. There were aspects about this that he could not control even if they made him a horrible employee in any capacity that required self-organisation and dependability.

He felt a thrill run through him like a current as he opened the door and was greeted by the pale expanse of Kylo’s naked back.

He was kneeling on the floor, facing his bed. Hux stepped inside and suddenly knew something was wrong, something was… off. He stepped closer, deliberating, and dug his fist into the luscious hair, a wave of tenderness overcoming him.

“What have you got to say for yourself?” he asked quietly, leaning over Kylo so that he spoke right in his ear, Kylo shivering gently at his touch, goosebumps appearing on his skin. 

“Punish me,” Kylo whispered.

 _Intriguing_. Hux closed his hand more firmly around the hair.

“What have you done?” he asked, head going through a dozen delicious options.

“I was fired,” Kylo said tonelessly. “From fucking _delivery_. I got three addresses wrong and the manager said I was simply too distracted. I…” he broke off, and with a start, Hux realised he was fighting tears.

It was so incongruous, seeing this man, as tall as him, muscular, with his deep, commanding voice, reduced to tears, that he took a step back, then went to kneel before him, his black work overalls a stark contrast to Kylo’s naked skin. Kylo quickly wiped his face before looking at Hux.

“Punish me,” he repeated. His eyes were dark, inscrutable, his face a wound.

Hux gave him a long, earnest look, gauging his feelings. Then he reached out and cupped Kylo’s cheek. 

“I will punish you, within the limits of this—game, for anything that you do out of line. But I will never punish you for something that is most likely not your fault and beyond your control.”

Kylo froze.

Stared.

The next thing he knew, Kylo’s arms were around his neck and he was kissing him, his mouth incredibly soft and warm, so, _so_ warm.

In spite of the many, many things he had done and had done to him, Hux had never had this, had never been kissed. Hux, flushed all over, gently probed Kylo’s mouth with his own tongue. He felt a strange vertigo, the room spinning around them in spite of Kylo’s warm arms keeping him from falling.

He could feel Kylo’s breath on his face as he stopped to take a breath, searching Hux’s eyes, then kissed him again. Hux bit back a moan as Kylo gently sucked on his tongue.

They toppled onto the ground, Kylo groping at Hux’s clothes and Hux’s hand entangled in Kylo’s hair again. Hux pushed Kylo down and rolled on top of him, breathing heavily into his face, which was very flushed and so beautiful.

He slung one leg over one of Kylo’s and rocked his hips forward against Kylo’s erection in a frantic rhythm, rocking, rocking, all the while staring down at Kylo’s dark eyes, until he came with a drawn out groan that seemed obscene.

He pressed his face into Kylo’s shoulder, boneless, feeling Kylo rut against him just as desperately and follow him shortly after.

They just lay there for a moment, Kylo’s almost feverish warmth seeping into his skin where he touched him with his bare flesh. 

“I want you to stay,” Kylo breathed into his hair. “Can you? Come back after work? My mother’s out this week, she’s opening a school and doing a couple of interviews out of town,” he added.

Hux hesitated.

This was a bad idea for about a million reasons, not least the fact that he could not sleep if the TV wasn’t on and he slept badly if it wasn’t.

He still wanted to, wanted nothing more than do just that, wanted nothing more than strip naked and live in Kylo’s room.

He did come back, wearing a discarded, ratty suit, feeling sheepish. He knew he needed to be casual, but he did not really own casual wear, so it was a proper suit, sleepwear, or this, his gym clothes being out of the question. Dismayingly, he observed how shiny the knees of his trousers had gotten but decided Kylo was probably above such lapses.

It was odd, seeing the house after dark, and he felt illicit, as though he was breaking in and had not been invited. Reflexively he had gone around the back, but his finger hesitated over the panel and he rang the doorbell instead.

Kylo had been apparently waiting nearby, as he opened the door seconds after. Stopped. Stared.

“You needn’t have dressed up for me,” he said, looking him up and down, sounding slightly out of breath. Maybe he had run to the door.

Hux gave a quiet chuckle that he knew meant he was a nervous mess but Phasma had said sounded arrogant. “Anything other than overalls are dressing up, I’m afraid,” he said.

Kylo let him come in, but basically fell into his arms right after that, and he let himself be dragged to the bedroom in good grace.

Kylo was so over-eager that he decided he needed to be slowed down.

“Strip, then lie on the bed.”

With very round eyes, Kylo did.

Hux stared into his eyes as he slowly undid his tie, then the first button of his shirt. Kylo swallowed.

He took off his jacket and neatly put it over Kylo’s chair.

Slowly undid his cuffs and rolled up one sleeve, then another. He fell into the sight of Kylo’s stillness, arranging himself on the best, arms crossed above his head, to be best observed. He was half-hard, and so vulnerable. Hux wondered what bitemarks would look like on that skin. _No. Not today. Not yet._

He was happy that the usual mess of untying your shoes in front of a lover was done away with by toeing them loose one after the other and stepping out.

Hux undid his belt, Kylo swallowed, staring. His own trousers were growing tighter, he noticed with inward glee.

He stopped when he had pulled the belt free from his trousers, then snapped it together with satisfaction, seeing Kylo’s involuntary shudder. _Good_.

Hux stepped over to the bed and could not help himself but brush the hair out of Kylo’s face, brushing his cheek, then forced himself to continue. He could stand there, staring, forever.

Hux tied his hands to the bed with his tie and tied his legs together with his belt, then stepped back and observed his handywork. Kylo could have easily freed himself, the tie was not the greatest means of securing someone, but the light strain he put on it to test it showed that he did not really want to.

“What have I done to displease you, Master?” he breathed.

A shudder ran through Hux.

“You have stopped me from doing what I wanted the other day, so I will do so now, to teach you not to do that again,” he said, and stepped closer, running his hands lightly down Kylo’s body from neck to toe, causing him to shudder.

He got the lube from the bedstand and made sure Kylo saw how he squirted a generous amount onto his hands.

He spent an hour teasing Kylo’s penis with his mouth and hands, stopping whenever he came too close and waiting, alternating soft, fluttery touches and sucks with hard strokes, until he had reduced him to a quivering mess, himself not much better off, his penis pulsing in his pants, a fierce glow of pride engulfing him like fire.

“Master, _please_ ,” he breathed, and Hux, not trusting his own voice, merely nodded.

Kylo was already trying to rub himself against anything in reach when he slid a hand under him, teasing him open. Kylo gave a strangled moan and he had to stop for a while, massaging his calves instead. When he had calmed down, he kept gently working him open. After a long moment, Kylo’s eyes snapped open.

“Wait. I’ve never—Hux, please don’t,” Kylo said in a small, insistent voice.

“You haven’t earned this yet,” Hux said smoothly and curled his other hand around Kylo's penis, bringing him off within seconds with a prolonged scream. He did not rest for afterwards for long, and Hux had just stepped back and started rolling down his sleeve when Kylo sat up from the bed as far as he could.

Kylo's hair was plastered to his face as he strained against the tie wildly to lift himself up from the bed.

“Master, please, I need you, I need—”

Hux did not need telling twice.

After, Hux went to get a glass of water while Kylo replied to a few e-mails from prospective employers who had received the edited letter of application and CV, and the secretive smile he had when he closed the laptop made Hux glad for him.

“Well,” he said upon Hux’s questioning look, “My hopefully future employer is impressed by my ‘multi-faceted portfolio’ of experience,” he said. “Well, _also_ he is unhappy with my Mum’s politics and probably wants intel, but it’s still a really great opportunity.”

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

The lascivious look Kylo gave him made Hux blush and turn away.

That night, he tried to stay awake as long as possible, but there was nothing to busy himself with. In the end, he quietly padded away from the bed and sat down at Kylo’s desk, happy to find it unlocked and logged into his own e-mail programme.

He answered a few client e-mails and then closed every single one of the twenty open tabs and programmes. Kylo really had distraction issues, Hux thought as he pressed red Xs in dozens of upper right corners.

 _His name_.

His pulse throbbed in his temples.

Hux rubbed his face. It had only been a fraction of a second, and it was tired, and it was late. He was most likely wrong. He squeezed his eyes shut and went back to bed to stare at the screen of his phone for an hour.

He was Leia Organa’s political opponent, however, so it made sense for Kylo to look up things about him.

Then, he searched for _his_ pictures.

Polished, white teeth gleaning in a smile as he raised his hand to the audience at a rally.

Hux felt fear creep over him, but at the same time, he felt strangely protected. He forced himself to stare him down in the picture, forcing down bile, head swimming with the heady scent of the aftershave. 

Here, in Kylo’s mother’s house, he was safer than anywhere else.


	11. Chapter 11

He found sleeping easier than he had thought, the presence of another person having a positive effect. And Kylo was a horribly disrupted sleeper and often woke him with his sudden position changes, which was a good deterrent for nightmares.

He told Phasma after a while and she just shook her head.

“I’m happy for you, and I definitely think that you ought to stay together with this guy, but moving in after such a short time? You barely know each other, and… well, as you are well aware, there are aspects to that that make that a shit idea. But it’s your decision. Also… at his mum’s, _really_? It’s so… juvenile.”

He just shrugged and raised his eyebrow, taken a sip of his tea, anything not to have to reply to that. He had _not_ moved in, what was she thinking. Phasma had only sighed.

When he found himself loading Millicent into her carrier and his sparse possessions into the company van a few days later, he was rethinking his previous conviction. Maybe he _was_ moving in, so what. Leaving his own car parked in the crap flat’s garage, he dropped off Millicent at Phasma’s and Nas’s before heading on to Kylo’s. 

They developed an easy rhythm, easier than Hux would have believed. He left early from Kylo’s in the company van, drove to work, made his rounds, drove back.

Tried not to get attached.

Tried to keep his presence as small as possible, and boy, was he good at that.

Tried not to overthink things.

Kylo had made a space for him in his life that Hux could not think about without becoming emotional. It went beyond clearing out a part of his cupboard and picking up on how Hux liked to drink his tea, or how neat things had to be around him for him to feel good. He made space for _him_.

It was an oddly novel experience- nobody ever had ever done that before, Hux contemplated as he polished the sink after brushing his teeth so that it looked as though he had never been there. Hux was good at fitting in, at adapting fast to any environment he found himself in, at not being noticed if he did not want to be, at not standing out. Kylo found a lot to notice about him and Hux did not like the ease with which the other man appeared to be able to read him when it was always him who had depended on reading others.

Hux checked on the crap flat multiple times per week, but came home to Kylo every evening. He helped him with his job hunt and consoled him whenever he was turned down (seventeen times) or fired (three times). Kylo, however, took it in stride. He said that he the prospective boss who had been interested in his multifaceted portfolio had, while he did not have a position at the moment, still offered to mentor him. He’d accepted and some of the things he’d said had been surprisingly good. The frequency of his being fired became longer.

Even though he avoided meeting Kylo’s mother staunchly, not wanting to explain some of the choices he made regarding Kylo’s impression of his employment. Still, a month in, Hux felt uncomfortable.

“Say,” he said, fetching himself a glass of water and still feeling teenaged about doing so in someone else’s home. “Your mother does know about… me. Doesn’t she?”

Kylo turned to him, clad in his usual tracksuit, eyebrow raised.

“Sure I told her my boyfriend’s living with me,” he said.

 _Boyfriend_.

He said things like that so easily. They had not talked about it, and here they were.

 _Boyfriend_.

It rang in Hux’s ears like a bell. How could he say that so easily, as though it did not matter at all. As though that was something he could be to a person. _As though you could deserve that._

“Hux? Are you alright?”

He had to come out of the bathroom he had locked himself in, and not only because he could hear his phone buzzing where he had left to charge on Kylo’s bedside table. At least Kylo had had the sense of going away a while ago. Hux haid said he was fine repeatedly, just cleaning, and Kylo had gotten the message at some point. Hux took off the gloves and threw them away together with the toothbrush, but he was too slow. All was quiet outside, and if his feeling for time was not off, Kylo must have left for his training. Perfect. He glared at his mirror image and made sure his hair was in place, straightened his clothes.

He stole out of the bathroom. Kylo was not there anymore, he breathed a sigh of relief, sagging against the wall. _Fucking drama queen._

Checked his phone.

14 missed calls.

One was Phasma.

When the doorbell rang, he tried not to be too apprehensive. He had never been in this situation, and he felt oddly transported back into school when people he needed to impress had thrown parties at each other’s parents houses and he had been invited, this feeling of illicit pleasure on someone else’s premises.

“Nice place,” Phasma said to him, handing over her strangely dilapidated coat. He knew for a fact she could afford better clothes, but it seemed as though she did not care for such things. It was in good condition, too, the leather well-cared for. It still looked strangely out of place on the hanger.

“I hope for your sake you did not park your bike out front.”

She scoffed.

“Milk and sugar in mine,” she said and pushed her helmet into his chest as she walked past. “Spar with me,” she said from the living room.

Soon, he was lying on the lush living room carpet, seeing stars, Phasma standing over him, contemplating what he had just told her.

“So you had a panic attack.”

“I did no—”

She gave him a look as she sat down on one of the stools.

“Fine. I had a panic attack.” He closed his eyes so that he did not have to see her smug look as she found out she was right. He felt his hand being taken and was pulled up into a standing position. Wincing, he sat on the stool next to her and decided It was probably safe to look at Phasma again now. Her brows were slightly furrowed and raised, eyes strangely intent.

Hux stared into the cup of gold tea on the counter.

“When will the boyfriend be back?” She said.

“His training ends at quarter past seven,” he said.

“Excellent, he’ll be back any minute, then.”

Hux surged around to look at the clock and the moment he saw that she was right, he heard the door. He would have given everything not to be there at that moment and felt himself click into autopilot, feeling very far away.

“Kylo, this is Phasma, a close work associate,” he said, not looking at Kylo, who had come in with a very dark expression, hair plastered to his face, and now radiated confusion. Next to him, Phasma unfolded impressively and stretched out her hand.

“Best friend, actually,” she said. When she did not add “and sponsor” he realised that was probably true.

“So great to meet you,” Kylo said, his voice sounding warm, “Hux mentions you a lot!”

Did he? He was so surprised he almost had no surprise left for the fact that Kylo put his sports bag _in its place_ instead of carelessly tossing it anywhere. Kylo came to shake her hand and then sit next to them at the island counter in the kitchen.

“Training?” Phasma asked. “What do you do?”

Hux barely supressed a groan as the conversation slipped sideways and into martial arts. Phasma and Kylo liked the same things and even seemed to follow the same events he had never heard of. Some of the people Kylo trained with were former army buddies of Phasma. They were getting on so well Hux deliberated just sneaking away, but that felt disloyal somehow. He sat ramrod straight, replenished everyone’s drinks, made quipping remarks when he could, looking for an exit.

Kylo’s hand casually inserted into his moored him in place at the end. He would have thought it would be sweaty and still cold from outside, but it was warm and incredibly comforting to hold. 

He realised that she liked Kylo, and that the two of them had a lot in common. They seemed to enjoy the same sports, video games (he hadn’t even realised Phasma played those), music (or what they thought of as music). Her approval felt like benediction.

That night, he rolled on top of Kylo and pinned his wrists above his head, looking down to where he thought his eyes must be.

“I’ve not had a great track record with relationships,” he told the darkness. “That’s why I’m sometimes… that’s why it’s...”

“No, _I’m_ sorry. I’m not really—well, I haven’t _got_ a track record. I suppose we should have talked about it first.”

“I shouldn’t have…” Hux could bite his tongue just in time. His eyes were burning and he hastily blinked them dry.

“I am just so happy with you,” Kylo said meditatively. “I want to stay yours.”

Hux allowed himself to sink down into the warmth and rest his forehead against Kylo’s shoulder, who rubbed his entire torso with his large hands. 

After a while, when his breathing had calmed down, they languidly rubbed against each other, Hux aware of Kylo with every fibre of his being, trying to breathe him in as he could feel his heat seeping into his skin. It took long and even though it was strangely unspectacular, Hux had never felt so close to another person as he did that moment, cocooned in Kylo’s warmth, safe in the still darkness.

After Kylo had nestled into his side, he lay awake for a very long time. 

Everything was so _good_ he knew, in his heart of hearts, it would end. _I told you so._

He came to to Kylo shaking his shoulder roughly, the scent of aftershave hanging heavily in the air.

“Hux?” Kylo’s voice sounded anxious.

“What?” Hux replied, forcing his tone to sound normal and groggy with sleep instead of like a strangled whisper, forcing himself to inhale the slightly stale air.

“You… you seem to have had a bad dream,” Kylo said.

Hux rubbed his forehead. The only thing he could remember was endless corridors and walls closing in.

“I suppose.”

“Oh.”

“Not a bad one,” Hux lied, wondering that he could make himself heard over the thundering of his heart.

“Well, don’t wake me up, I have to work tomorrow,” Kylo said after a moment, his voice a calculated whine. Immediately, Hux was on top of him, his hands finding his neck in the dark.

“ _What_ did you say?”

“I have to get up early as it is, and—”

He pressed only lightly, a soft moan escaping Kylo immediately.

“If you don’t stop talking nonsense, I will make sure that you can’t talk at all,” he said hoarsely.

Softly, he could feel Kylo’s own hand tentatively close around his own throat and the sudden spasm forward his hip gave was a surprise. He bit back the urge to moan and leant into Kylo’s soft grasp.

Suddenly, they were rutting against each other in the dark in a frenzy, awkwardly, hands closed about each other’s throats, tangled in a pretend battle, harsh gasps piercing the velvet darkness. When he came, Hux flopped forward to bite into Kylo’s shoulder to prevent himself from crying out, feeling lightheaded, his hand still gently closed around Kylo’s throat.

He found himself falling into an easy rhythm after that, and he had almost started to trust it when it ended.

For two glorious months, he slept at Kylo’s place every night. They got up together, had breakfast, Kylo watched him obliterate any sign that they had ever set foot in the kitchen, showered together, played together, got each other off in many creative ways, avoided his m other, and enjoyed each other thoroughly.

Of course, Hux knew it was going to end eventually, but he could forget it for longer than he would have thought possible.

Kylo kept writing his mentor, secretively holing up in his room to do so, emerging with a new fire in his eyes after every Skype or e-mail exchange. The mentor appeared to be good for him. Hux avoided meeting the Senator, because that would bring up very uncomfortable questions from Kylo’s side.

He thought about simply telling Kylo his position in the company daily, but there was always a good reason not to do that. They had had a good day and he needed to punish Kylo and then get each other off, why spoil the mood? They had had a bad day and they needed to spend time together and he did not want to upset Kylo further. Phasma had had a bad day and he did not want to start something so late in the day. Work had run late and there was simply no time for a proper conversation now. It was their first month anniversary of his moving in. This was not the time. On and on, Hux simultaneously not leaving behind traces of his presence in this life and at the same time clinging on to it with all his strength.

_Still, of course you’d be back here, you pathetic piece of shit, glaring at yourself in the same mirror image. No, don’t you dare cry. Coward._

_Of course it had to end._

_Who would want you?_


	12. Chapter 12

_i have good news come over and we can celebrate_

Hux felt a smile bloom on his face as he read it and finished up work an hour earlier than his customary eleven. He even considered texting Phasma about leaving the office early, because she always teased him that he looked at the wrong thing at meetings and should bring up his work habit. He decided against it as he headed for the van and started driving.

Kylo met him at the door, all smiles, and wearing a suit. Hux filed away the immediate array of possibilities aside for later.

“Look!”

He was brandishing an envelope and bounced closer to fall around his neck and breathe in his scent. Hux slung his arms around him and held him, stroking the hair at the back of his neck.

“Well done,” he said.

Kylo’s face broke into a smile and he bounded up into his room, standing tall as a conquering general as he handed him the letter.

“I start on Monday, it’s so great. It’s only an internship, but my mentor has already said that it is only a matter of time before I get some real work there. I sent them the CV and letter of application you helped me with, thank you so much.”

Hux felt all blood leave his face as he saw the signature, stomach dropping.

“What is that about?” he managed, not trusting himself to look at Kylo.

He stared at the letter.

“Hux, what’s wrong? You’re shaking.”

Kylo gently took his shoulders and steered him to the desk chair. He did not sit down.

“What is it?”

He did not answer, the scent of aftershave hanging heavily in the air, making it impossible to breathe, carrying the memories in its wake.

_He put the paper in front of Palpatine for him to sign. He did with a smile, this very signature on the page in drying ink, and then pulled Hux closer, all easy arrogance and correct in the assumption that he would get anything he demanded, take anything he chose._

_Palpatine’s hands on his neck, the squeeze getting more and more intense as he pressed into Hux, who was lying face down on the couch, its thick leather digging into his cheek with every jerk of Palpatine's hips._

_Palpatine standing in front of his desk, looking down at a kneeling Hux, saying, “There are great things you have to offer this company, Armitage,” before his cum covered Hux’s face in quick spurts._

_The little cocked half-nod to the door he gave as he fired him._

_Expendable personnel will be made redundant._

_Expendable._

“You should re-think this offer, Ben,” he said, when he thought he could trust his voice again.

“What?”

“Really. He—he is a dangerous man.”

“Don’t be absurd, Hux, what is this about?”

Hux summoned all his strength and looked into Ben’s eyes.

“He uses people,” he said, unable to give voice to other things.

“You don’t realise, Hux. He really sees me for who I _am._ He says I’ve got special talents due to my multifaceted—”

Hux could tell from Kylo’s expression what his face must look like and could not quite bite back the small snorting laugh that bubbled up because it had to go somewhere and he did not want to sob.

“ _Sure_ he does. Kylo, I’ve read your CV. This is a _dangerous_ man. I’m sorry, but—”

Kylo hit the desk so hard his laptop jumped several centimetres into the air and then punched his office chair across the room.

“FUCK you! This is a GOOD thing! Just because you’re a fucking nobody does not mean everyone is, that no one else can see my potential. Don’t try me down to YOUR level just because someone is giving me a fucking chance to really make something—”

Hux did not hear him out, and walked out of the room even though he could see from the corner of his eyes that Kylo was getting up from his desk and made to follow him.

Down the stairs.

Out the door.

Down the corridor. 

Grab his always-packed bag on the way to the company van.

Into the van, hurried steps behind him.

Drive.

Drive.

Drive.

There was nothing he could do.

Back in his crap flat, he stripped and showered, turning off the hot water and watching his toes turn blue. Then, he turned it up until he could feel his back scalding and scrubbed himself with a brush until his skin felt even thinner. _Pathetic. He deserves so much better than you._

Standing in front of the mirror, glaring at himself, his hands opened and closed.

_What now._

Phasma was going to expect him back in and he deliberated texting her to tell her he was not coming in later.

He ignored Kylo’s three attempts at calling him. 

Then, the phone stopped.

Hux paced his room in his underwear, a trapped animal, restless energy consuming him. He felt himself drawn to the kitchen counter like a magnet and it would be so easy to give in. He smashed the bottle instead, and a hiccupping sob broke free as he inhaled the scent. It was the last thing he had kept from home, _had been_ the last surviving thing, and now that was gone, too, and over someone like Kylo.

He rubbed his face angrily and slapped himself to stop himself from crying, then smashed the glass from the living room table, too, for good measure.

It took him a long time to make the right decision.

 _Come over,_ was all he wrote, and all it took.

“Boss, this is the most dramatic reaction to a break-up I have ever seen.” Phasma was standing in his living room, taking in its state, then fetched the brush and shovel from their hanger.

“You’re in the way, sit down,” she admonished, and he watched her inexpertly sweep the floor and wipe up the alcohol, her face stony, trying not to breathe in.

“I ought not to have asked you to come,” he said, instead of an apology.

“Shut up and drink that tea. And read this.”

She tossed a big brochure at him which turned out to be a manual for the console which he could see in the bag she had brought.

Later, she showed him how to work the buttons and hammered him the first few tries, before he got better and his abilities at sniping outstripped her brute force.

It was mind-numbingly dull after two hours.

Hux loved it.

A dull mind was exactly what he needed.

The rest of the week, he felt like a wind-up toy. He did not receive any messages from Kylo, nor did he send any. He focused on work and got things done efficiently. His routine welcomed him back and fit him like a glove.

Get up.

Shower, scrubbing himself raw.

Cat food.

Drive to work.

Work.

Home.

Clean home.

Games or TV.

Bed.

The dreams were back and he greeted them wearily, bullies so old they were almost friends, and took up position on his customary seat on the couch again. He often played video games instead of watching TV now, once he felt too unfocused to work. His days lengthened, but in many ways felt emptier than before, even though he accomplished more.

He assigned a new cleaner to MC-577 and deliberated about locking himself out of the cleaner’s personal app somehow. Deliberated checking on the app installed by the person who confirmed the appointments, but decided against it. Not now. And there were no issues, and this was almost the worst thing that could have happened.

After three cleans he had to face up to the fact that maybe, things had changed. He still kept close tabs on the cleaner, but there was just nothing. He forced himself not to pull the video data of the job and watch it, watch this place he had felt so at home in, look for signs of Kylo. It took more strength than he admitted to himself. When prompted, the new cleaner submitted bubbly reports and said that everything was going well. There had not been any incidents. He did not check the client's phone. 

As he often did, Hux started focussing on other things and other people. He came up with a new reward system promoting work safety and hygiene and increased the number of unpenalized sickdays to promote staff health. His shareholders had questions about that, worried about diminished returns, but rallied when the app was mentioned as a paragon of worker friendliness. Hux tried not to laugh hysterically when he read that article.

He offered a feature that allowed the company to take a portion of the cleaner’s salary and invest it for profit, paying out the invested sum and a bonus comprised of half the gains made by the investment. It gave them even more of the feeling that they had a stake in the company and bumped numbers quite nicely. It also kept them in the press and kept that press good. Europe was going well, too, fake self-employment enabling them to work around labour laws. 

He tried to muster his previous level of enthusiasm for his job, and failed. Things were going better than they had ever done, the app had been featured in several noteworthy non-tech magazines and nice things were being said about his international empire.

Hux failed to care.

_Useless._

It was about a month after loss of contact that Phasma came in with the paper. She plonked it down in front of him and gave him a steady look.

“Thought you should know.” She about-turned and left. The strain in her ramrod straight back did not foretell anything good. 

His tie suddenly felt too tight and he loosened his tie a little.

“DATA BREACH LEAKS CAMPAIGN SECRETS - ORGANA IN SHOCK”.

An unknown person had sent a large amount of data on to Palpatine’s staff, the article said.

Organa was distraught and even though nothing damning had been leaked, her opposition was announcing everything it did find as a scandal and breathlessly asked how she could stand even running anymore, since she had been in contact with some unwholesome figures, even a known former drug dealer, how shameful.

The next page was devoted to an article about her family life, and there was a picture of Ben, looking arrogant and self-confident in his black suit, hair kept in check with about as much product as Hux himself used, standing next to Palpatine, whose small smile made Hux want to retch and he covered the image with a hasty hand.

When he came home, he spotted the person looming in the doorway a few entrances down immediately. His hackles were up almost before he saw him, but when he did an instinct immediately told him who it was.

“Do you want to come in?” he called over, his key already in the door.

Dameron detached himself from the wall and came over, looking pale and tired. They did not speak until Dameron was sitting on his couch, taking in the room.

“Hasn’t changed much,” he remarked, gratefully accepting the tea and inhaling its scent. “Not that I would have thought it would have,” Dameron added.

“I hear you’re married to one of my former cleaners,” Hux said for something to say. Dameron’s presence filled him with unease as he reminded him of things better left in the past.

“How?” Dameron asked, scoffing slightly.

“The app has access to all contact data in the cleaner’s phones and there are several people I have flagged,” he said, not bothering to lie about it. “Why are you here, Dameron?”

“You owe me after that last thing, Hux. What is your role in this?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I… this happens, and your app has been making the news, and given your past—” Dameron looked at his face and briefly stopped talking, staring at is tea instead. “So. Your position is that you have nothing to do with this?”

Hux did not look at him, could not, his ears were too red.

“I was not the source of the leak, no,” he said to his knees instead.

Dameron did not answer, then scoffed.

“You know what, I believe you. Finn is going to think I’m insane, but I believe you.”

“I can’t say I understand the hard feelings. I met the man maybe twice, I think it was Phasma who hired him? Whence the animosity?”

“Well, his immediate superior had it in for him, for one, and Finn likes the personal touch, being more than an anonymous number. A _nd_ he’s doing his Phd in politics, and when your past employer made the rounds in the media and the speculation about a connection started—”

“There is no connection,” Hux said low and dangerously. “You should know that,”

“No, I _don’t_ know that. How should I? I just know that you went your separate ways after the crash, Hux, you never gave me any details.”

Another silence followed.

“Fine, there is no connection,” Dameron said. “But you can’t look like that and tell me you’re not involved somehow, Hux, that doesn’t fly. What else did you access through that app of yours?”

“Neither me, nor anyone associated with my company is the leak,” Hux said evenly, feeling strangely detached from the situation. “You can tell that to the senator, too,” he added.

“Fine,” Dameron scoffed, sipping his tea, then put the cup down and rubbed his face. “The papers are calling me a drug dealer,” he said.

“I did not tell _them_ anything, either. Does your husband believe them?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” Dameron said.

“Have you told him about… Well.”

“The meetings? Yes, we tell each other everything. Most things. He does not know I am here. He does not know we… have met before.”

“Good. It would not make anything any better if he knew,” Hux said, feeling more certain about this than about most other things at that moment. He could tell that Hux was looking him over.

“No offence, but you look pretty bad. Should I call anyone?”

Hux tried to stop himself from laughing and failed. It sounded even more hollow than he had anticipated.

“No. There is nothing anyone can do.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not dying or anything, are you?”

“No, I’m not dying.” He could feel his throat closing and swallowed, blinking rapidly.

“Fucking hell, Hux.”

Dameron’s arm was around his shoulders and Hux was too weak to fight it off. He tried to keep it down, he really tried. He could barely feel the sob escaping as Dameron reached over and pulled his forehead into his shoulder by grabbing he back of Hux’s neck. Just like that. As though it was easy. As though it was normal.

_Pathetic._

Poe Dameron was the last person on whose shoulder he wanted to have a breakdown, but that was precisely what was happening. He held his breath to keep in the sobs, trying not to breathe in the aftershave smell. No, Dameron was not wearing any. He smelled of himself.

_Pull yourself together_

_pull yourself together_

_pull yourself together_

_pull yourself—_

It took a long while to come back to his own body afterwards. It was as though he had stepped outside for a moment and observed the sobbing wreck in front of him. He was glad of it, because it meant that he could not feel the crippling, all-engulfing shame that was bound to wash over him at any second. He had not cried like that since—he had _never_ cried like that. And in the company of another person. Dameron would never think of him the same again 

Tears were useless.

Tears were for the weak.

But he _was_ weak, he knew that, had always known, weak and useless.

Dameron had not done much but been there and offered his shoulder, at some point getting up, leaving Hux to stew in his own misery.

He was back a moment later, however, handing him a warm, wet towel which he had seemingly conjured from thin air and tissues. He’d all but insisted to tuck Hux in when Hux had finally been able to escort Dameron to the door.

Now Hux found himself standing in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror, almost not recognising himself. He had severe rings under his eyes. Against the red sclera, his irises looked eerily green, his skin had an unhealthy hue.

He looked like shit.

He felt like shit.

Still no wave of shame, however, though that was only a matter of time, he supposed, a lapse that momentous probably required a bigger build-up than other things.

He stared in the mirror. _You do not deserve any of them._

Dameron had kept repeating that it was not his fault and that it would be fine.

But it _had_ been his fault.

He had not turned Palpatine down, ever.

His body had enjoyed what Palpatine had done very much, at times.

He did not for a second believe that he would have ascended to his position without his… extracurricular activities.

Of _course_ it was his fault.

And now, he had not been able to keep Ben from him.

That was worse than the years with Palpatine taken together.

It was on him, whatever happened to both of them, it was on his conscience.

That was going to be very hard to live down. He looked into his face, not meeting his eyes, and told himself to pull himself the fuck together, that he was going to be fine, that he was neither relapsing nor going to kill himself.

Then he went to have a shower and scrubbed his skin until it bled.


	13. Chapter 13

One month.

Then two.

Hux forced himself not to miss Kylo.

Business was excellent.

He did not wear his work overalls anymore, much to Phasma’s delight, even though a niggling voice kept telling him he did not deserve the suits.

He avoided newspapers. All too often, Kylo’s face looked out from them, and always standing next to Palpatine. The papers were in uproar about the connection and gleefully reported how Palpatine had made him an assistant to his PA and long articles about Ben’s political views being closer to Palpatine’s than his mother’s. However, the _clients_ did not, and, doing quality control, he stumbled upon one and froze in his tracks.

The image showed Palpatine standing next to Ben, and he looked so possessive Hux wanted to throw up. He had his hand on Ben’s shoulder, too. The headline announced that he had made Ben shadow his PA and had high hopes for his future, _such a bright young man, so talented_.

And Ben.

Something in his eyes twisted his gut.

There was visible pride, but also something else.

An expression, almost shy, almost afraid.

The ringing in his ears only stopped when he had made it to the toilets, thrown up, and washed out his mouth, staring himself in the mirror, eyes glittering.

_Ben, please listen. I would never harm you. You have to get away from Palpatine. He is dangerous. He abuses people._

He wrote.

Deleted the words.

Wrote them again.

Deleted them again.

Wrote them again.

Hux closed his eyes and pressed send.

His phone pinged only a few moments later.

_you just dont understand_

_he gets me on a level that you never have_

_its really taken me further_

_don’t take this the wrong way_

_we had fun_

_but_

_im in a good place right now_

_and hes good at what he does_

Hux only did not throw his phone against the wall because his hands were shaking with supressed emotion.

He turned Phasma down yet again and stayed up working. It always helped.

At 2am, he cleaned his flat, earning a confused look from Millicent.

He had to keep moving so that he did not think about the implications. In his mind’s eye, Ben was constantly being thrown over desks, forced to do unspeakable things.

_As though he would ever do that to anyone but you. You deserved to be treated like that, Ben is so much better than you. Also, it’s a little late to pretend you didn’t enjoy that, Armitage._

He slapped himself.

Washed his face in the coldest water his tap was capable of.

When he could not feel his nose or hands anymore, he stared into his face in the mirror.

Then, he sat down at his desk, and did something he had not done in years: he hacked himself into a private device.

Not that the owner of the device hadn’t freely allowed him to do just that when they’d accepted the terms and conditions. He used the backdoor in his app that he had put in for his own use specifically and installed the safety features the cleaners had on the client’s phone. Fighting against the nausea, he set the code words to phrases Palpatine liked to say and included a few things that he expected a distressed Ben to say. He sat and stared at the screen a long time, resisting the urge to use his microphone access to spy on Ben.

Then, and pulled all data that the current cleaner of MC-577 had ever gathered from the file. Double-checked her reports. Yes, she _had_ mentioned that she had run into Ben several times when she’d been cleaning. Maybe there was something. Maybe there was something from two, three months ago.

He watched all video files, fast-forwarding to her cleaning Ben’s bedroom.

Suddenly, he froze.

Zoomed in.

Yes. Someone was in the Senator’s room, the room that was always locked, the room he had never even seen, that no cleaner had ever entered and did not have the code to. That nobody but the senator was ever supposed to have access to. He zoomed in, but the blurry person just visible in some of the images could have been anyone. But the person who left the room a while later was clearly Ben.

He sat up even straighter in his chair. Rewound the video. Paused. Took a screenshot. Deliberated.

Hesitated. Looked at the clock. 7am. Perfect.

He called the cleaner.

Yes, the son had been in that room. He had seemed very agitated. Well, of course, if there had been a data breath, it made sense for him to be agitated, she supposed.

Hux thanked her and stared out of the window, ashen faced.

“Senator, this is Armitage, of First Order Cleaning.” His pulse pounded in his ears and he knew that if she said anything, he would probably lose his nerve. He hit “send”. “Check your inbox. The cleaner asked not to have their identity revealed, but it’s been brought to my attention that she saw a person in your room the day of the data breach and—yes, she did see who, it was your son, she managed to… I am sorry to be the bearer of bad new like this. Also... No, please, let me finish, that is not all. Yes, that’s the one she took. Still, listen.

“A previous cleaner has alleged that Palpatine sexually abused them. If I were you, I’d make sure that your—moved out or not, if I were you, I’d make sure he was fine…

“No, there isn’t, thanks, anyway… I am so sorry. I realise that I am in breach of confidentiality for this, so I am going to terminate our contract. No, I am afraid it is necessary… Yes. … Yes, I will… You, too. Goodbye.”

He hung up.

Done.

_Coward._

_Traitor._

_Pathetic useless piece of shit._

He had not heard anything after his revelation to the Senator, but he knew that he had been right, and she knew it, too. There had not been any sort of legal ramification, but Hux knew that people at that level often handled things themselves.

Privileged.

Private law.

He also still forced himself not to follow the case anywhere, but he did hear some things in spite of himself. For the Senator, it was almost as though her son had crossed over to the Dark Side. He was really working against everything she stood for, it seemed. It was also clear to him that she would not be able to get him back.

Maybe there was another person who could, though.

He was not surprised to find that the discrete shipping company’s headquarters were located in the same business district that Hux’s own company was located in. Turning up the collar of his greatcoat in spite of the spring warmth, he approached the building and talked the secretary into letting him see her boss.

Some people had a presence that filled a room, and this was clearly the case with the man in front of him. It was patent that a large portion of Ben’s charm had ben inherited from him, even though Ben had nothing of the practiced ease at which this trader could immediately charm and ingratiate himself to anyone. Hux himself felt a little flustered as he met those sparkling eyes when he came in. A younger Han Solo must have been a force to be reckoned with.

“And what can I do for you, Mr Hux?” his teeth where white and slightly crooked, giving him a rogueish appearance.

Hux felt too flustered to beat about the bush.

“I am here to ask you to talk your son out of working for Palpatine.”

Solo sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, giving Hux a very measured look.

“If Leia sent you—”

“She didn’t. I have just heard things from one of my cleaners about Palpatine that makes it dangerous for your son to work there.”

At this, Solo leant forward, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“He has sexually abused several of his employees before,” Hux lied. He did not know if he had not been the only one. “Only that nobody has ever been brave enough to report him because they were his inferiors and the ramifications… can get very ugly.”

The twinkle slowly faded from Solo’s eyes as he held his gaze. Then, he rubbed his face and suddenly looked old. Well, looked his age, really, Hux had assumed he was a lot younger by his appearance.

“Ben has refused contact with me in years, I am not sure that at this point my reaching out would do anything.”

“You must try, your son depends on you,” Hux said in his best boardroom voice, meeting his gaze steadily.

“And these allegations are true?”

Hux scoffed. “Would you be willing to take a cleaner’s word over someone like Palpatine’s?”

Solo met his eyes squarely.

“Yes. Any time.”

“They are true.”

“Mr Hux, I have to say that I can’t quite see what your role in all of this is.”

“I’m…” _What, Hux. You’re what. A coward, that’s what you are._ “…very fond of your son.”

Solo surprised Hux by giving a sudden snort of laughter.

“And you’re quite sure that you’re not here in your capacity as jealous ex?”

He could feel the colour creeping up his neck.

“That is not why I am here, no.”

“But you are an ex?”

“I. Yes.”

Solo smacked one fist into his hand, in seeming triumph, then rubbed his face again.

“And he won’t listen to you?”

“No. I expressed my misgivings and we parted ways.”

Unexpectedly, Solo laughed.

“I can see what he sees in you,” he said. Hux knew the redness had reached his cheeks.

“We should have a beer or something, I’ve never met a partner of Ben’s, I’m curious.”

Was he ready for a bar? Phasma would snap him in half. He had basically been raised in the restaurant with a bar that his father had done most of his business deals in. He did not mind them since he was not a social drinker, but it was probably still a bad idea.

“I have to get back to work later, let’s have a coffee instead,” he said firmly. Solo gave and easy shrug and surged to his feet. Both he and his wife had the same boundless energy that made Ben an annoying person to watch a movie with, Solo must have been unable to sit still, too. He remembered that the man had been a pilot in a former life and wondered how that went together.

They chose the café close to Hux headquarters that he usually had lunch in with Phasma. He watched Solo splutter at the prices and choose a black filter coffee, which surprised Hux. Yes, everything was vastly overpriced due to the businesspeople-only-customer-base, but he had also never been around someone who was so obviously not concerned with impressing his opposite, content in the knowledge that the other was probably already impressed enough. But maybe he was reading too much into a simple drinks order. He took his usual black tea and they sat down.

“You’re in the cleaning business, aren’t you?” Solo said. Hux nodded. “I knew that I recognised your face from somewhere. We’re basically neighbours, aren’t we?” Hux nodded again.

“And you? Shipping?” Solo smiled, his eyes crinkling, showing that he did so often.

“Yes, I’m a smuggler,” he said conspiratorially. Hux gave a polite half-smile.

They talked about their businesses and Hux easily switched into gear, being his polished business self. It felt like a job interview or a board meeting. He was telling him about some of the new employee friendly features of the app because he pegged Solo to be a person who cared about worker friendliness, when he noticed him watching him with an odd expression.

“You know, if you cut the crap, you’d be a very likeable guy. More substance and less bluster.” Without elaborating, he downed the rest of the tea and Hux, very flustered, finished his excursus on worker friendliness. They parted ways with Solo promising to try and contact Ben, Hux giving Solo his card so he could contact him.

A few days later, the response came. No luck, Ben had shot him down and did not want to talk, clearly. Solo expressed his regrets and that was the last he heard of him.

Hux paced his office, the spring sun heating up the room uncomfortably. He did not understand it. He was not a parent, but he’d have thought that parents who cared would want their child not to work for a known sexual abuser. He looked at his reflection in the floor length window and adjusted his tie. What did he know.

He checked the app again and this time did look at the client app. No reports of codewords, naturally, they’d set off the security alarm. It _had_ recorded a couple of questionable cases that to the security system. Hux deliberated, scrolling through the collected metadata. No names had been mentioned. Good. Still… Did he want to invade Ben’s privacy like that? Did he want to hear what was on it? Could he make another person listen to it on his behalf so that he did not have to? _You’re a pathetic coward, Hux_.

In the end, he placed the file in a fictitious context and sent it out via the regular paths questionable cases took. He flagged the fictitious cleaner ID and waited. An hour later he saw that a data entry person had flagged the fictitious client for inappropriate sexual behaviour and put them on one strike. They also tagged the fictitious cleaner ID as potentially sexually inappropriate.

Hux, for the first time, considered that doing data monitoring for his security company must mean his personnel dealt with some rather weird crap and forced himself to come up with a method of dealing with that rather than listening to Ben having sex with Palpatine.

A few hours later, he had set up informal mentoring sessions with a washed up therapist he had found who was willing to work for a very low wage who was also willing to run group sessions and sent out the information to his security pool. He deleted the audio file. When he scrolled through the system’s social network and reading the many congratulatory messages, he set up a system of disposable cleaner and client IDs that would route the questionable recordings through the usual security features the company used.

He went to wash his face and went to the gym to force himself to think of other things. 

The text woke him in the middle of the night, but he stood up from the couch immediately when he realised who, or rather what, had sent it.

It was a security breach warning, triggered by the security system features of the app, and attached to it was the geolocation. Should the security company be informed, blinking questionmark? He acknowledged and stepped into his trousers.

Hux was in the car before he knew it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sexual abuse, domestic abuse, and self-gaslighting.

Drawing up, Hux turned up the heating in the car, then left the car running. His legs remembered the way all too well and he was at the glossy high rise’s door before he knew it.

A figure stumbled out of the door, suit in slight disarray. Hux stopped. Behind him, he could see his company’s security personnel standing in the hallway and lazily raising a hand in greeting. He nodded an acknowledgement, focussing on Kylo again. He was incongruous in his suit and tie, and had an expression that told Hux he was barely keeping it together. Hux forced himself to look past the wet eyes and the white stains.

Kylo froze when he saw him, and swallowed hard, eyes brimming.

“Do you want to come with me?” Hux said, not daring to breathe until Kylo nodded. In silence, they walked back to where he had left his car. Hux opened the passenger door.

“That is your car?” Kylo asked, voice strangely neutral.

Hux frowned, looking around the interior of his glossy black Lexus, then realised Kylo had only ever seen the company van.

“Obviously. Get in.”

Kylo did, slinging his arms around his knees after he had. He did not look at Hux.

“What happened?”

Kylo gave an odd half-shrug. Hux drove, not quite knowing where to go, and decided to take him home.

He did not know where Kylo lived now, and it seemed a very bad idea to take him back to his mother’s house. Kylo did not speak, and Hux felt a surge of tenderness and worry.

He lifted one hand from the steering wheel and reached towards Kylo’s face, but his hand never connected with his skin, as Kylo jerked away. Hux retracted his hand, but after a moment, put it close to the passenger seat. Kylo grabbed it and held on as though he was drowning, staring straight ahead.

Hux drove home to the crap flat.

“This is where you live?”

“Yes.”

Hux put his keys onto their hanger, then held out his hand for Kylo’s jacket. Kylo hesitated, then took if off, padded around the living room with a strangely restless energy. Hux watched his back, feeling oddly reminded of Phasma.

He left Kylo to explore and made some tea.

“Help yourself to any of my clothes if you want a change,” he said to Kylo. The bedroom door clicked shut.

Hux made tea and tried not to be too worried as he made two teas and added generous amount of sugar and milk to Kylo’s. A while later, Kylo emerged in one of Hux’s nicer tracksuits, looking slightly more comfortable. Hux knew how not to ask questions even if it broke his heart. He held out his tea instead.

His heart gave a small twinge as he saw Kylo sink into his blue couch. He had often wondered what it would be like to have him here, but obviously the circumstances were radically different. He deliberated putting on the television set or handing Kylo the remote, then changed his mind, lifting the coffee table to one side of the room.

“Do you want to spar with me? I’m terrible, but Phasma usually really enjoys laying me out flat on the carpet.”

Kylo surged to his feet with pent up energy, and soon, Hux had to use all his speed to keep dodging and keep out of his way. To his great surprise, it was much easier than with Phasma, and it seemed like all the late-night sessions they had had over the years had paid off. Kylo’s attacks were forceful, but so… energetic that it was usually immediately obvious what he was going to do next.

Still, he could not help but be impressed and mildly aroused. Kylo moved like water, like a tiger, every motion controlled, even in his rage, muscles carefully guiding every single step. He was magnificent, dangerous, deadly. And beside himself with supressed rage.

Hux felt grateful for having been prepared by Phasma’s stony-faced, snake-like attacks. When he managed to sweep Kylo’s feet out from under him by accident more than skill and because Kylo was erratic and emotional, the man’s aggressive roar was simultaneously arousing and scary. He kept dodging, but Kylo did lay him out flat in return, helping him up only to lay him out right again.

When he started throwing punches in frustration, Hux felt a shiver run down his spine. This was too familiar. He had felt the control slipping out from under him, but did not know what to do about it. Some things you just had to wait out. Somehow, it seemed worth it. It was not that he liked being punched or smacked about, but if it was a person he loved, it was so much easier to tolerate.

And with Kylo, it was strangely easy, his punches always came announced and never seemed to intend to really connect somehow, anyway. As though he was already anticipating them being dodged or blocked. It was a novel experience. Experimentally, Hux threw a punch himself and almost yelped in surprise when it connected painfully with Kylo’s nose.

Kylo gave another strangled roar and shoved Hux backwards with all of strength. The next thing Hux knew was that the wall drove all the air out of his lungs and he dropped to the floor to avoid Kylo’s fist. He needn’t have worried, though, he thought, as he looked up, wheezing. Kylo was happily putting a hole and then increasing its size in the drywall, dust spiralling up. Hux bit his lip and crawled out of the way.

He deliberated. He was used to seeing people go off the rails, but he was not keen on repairing a wall nonetheless. Hux gave him a moment, then got up and grabbed Kylo’s elbow when he was bringing back his arm.

“Stop it, and go take a shower. You’re—” _filthy_. _Dirty._ “—covered in plaster dust.”

The slap came out of nowhere. Hux had time to blink before he received another slap, hard enough to bruise. _Deserved that._ He put up his hand and caught the arm before the hand connected a third time.

“No,” he said, firmly, looking into Kylo’s wild eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“Make me,” came the strangled reply.

Hux kept a pointed hold on the arm and then let go.

“No, Ben. I won’t. And you’ll stop that.”

Suddenly, both Ben’s hands were around his throat and all he could do was stagger backwards against the wall. Ben’s eyes were wild, his face livid. On autopilot, Hux kicked the kneecap in front of him out of reflex and then stuck out his elbow to hit his face as he was going down.

Phasma had done a good job, he reflected, as he observed Kylo’s crumpled form on the floor. The blows had not been that hard, he knew that, but he could see through his streaming eyes that Kylo was already at the end of his strength. Through his coughs, he reached down to help Kylo up but he did not react. He retracted his hand and wiped his face on his sleeve. _Disgraceful_. 

Alright then.

He washed his face in the bathroom, then went to get brush, shovel and vacuum cleaner and left Kylo to it. At some point, Kylo relocated to the bedroom and closed the door. Hux cleaned up floor and wall and got a leftover repair kit from the cupboard in the kitchen,suddenly feeling much better for having something to do with his hands that tethered him to the here and now.

It was strangely meditative work and he was so lost in it that coming back to his body was a nasty surprise. He had not felt the bruises forming, and now they pulsed angrily on his neck and left cheek. It was not a bad one, though. Periodically, he checked the bedroom door, but there was just no sound. Maybe Kylo had gone to sleep? He fought down a panicked thought about Kylo having done something to himself.

After an hour, plaster mix hardening, he knocked on the door tentatively.

“Would you like some tea?”

No response.

“I’m going to put a cup by the door and go watch some TV. Join me if you want. If you want I’ll order a pizza if I can find anyplace that’s open at this hour,” he added. He deliberated texting Phasma, but felt that more people was not a good idea right now.

In the end, he went to the counter, opened his laptop, and stared at it for a long time before he opened the file that had brought the security company and him flying to Kylo’s aid. His heart was beating so hard it as drowning out any noise, but he had, _had to_ know.

He put in headphones. He had to hear it if he wanted to know what he had done to Ben. He pressed play.

 _“—crossed a line today.”_ The codeword. _“But I will give you the opportunity to make up for it. Bend over the desk and strip.”_

 _“Yes, Master.”_ Ben, breathy and excited. Hux squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed down the bile. Still, listening to Palpatine’s voice again, it was much easier than he would have believed. He listened on.

_“You will count.”_

_“Yes, Master.”_

Palpatine had Ben count the beats, and Hux thought something in the hissing intake of breath. Ben did not sound as excited and relaxed as he had for Hux. He felt sick. Palpatine had never done this with him, how did he know to do it with Ben? The beating continued several minutes, Ben’s breathing getting progressively more laboured, small, unhappy sounds escaping him.

_The impacts got louder, and Ben’s suppressed groans more pronounced. They sounded pained rather than aroused. Then, there was a pause, then a hissing intake of breath._

_“Good.”_

_“Thank you, Master,” Ben mumbled. Palpatine did not respond._

_“You will be allowed to show your contrition.”_

_Rustling cloth, then a zipper opening, a happy sigh. Palpatine. A small noise from Ben. The sound of skin on skin, small, unhappy gasps from Ben._

_“You have done well, Kylo.”_

_“Thanks, Master,”_ Ben sounded strangely worried, and Hux did not like it _. “Listen—please”_

_“Kylo, hold still.”_

_“Master, wait, this is—Sheev, please—No, don't!”_

_“Stop moving,” A muffled grunt. Ben._ Hux’s heart was in his throat. _Another muffled grunt, ending in a sob, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. “You are mine. Say it.”_

_More rustling, a hiss._

_“I—stop, please, I’ve n—I don’t—please—No!"_

_What followed were sharp intakes of breath and again the sound of flesh on flesh, of rustling cloth. Then, the sound of a door crashing open further away._

_“What …”. Palpatine. Rustling cloth, panting breath, a barely supressed sob._

Hux’s heart broke and he realised that tears were running freely down his own face.

_“What are you doing here at this time of night?” Palpatine’s voice said in the distance. He heard the muffled reply of another man, apparently security._

_Rustling cloth, more hitching breaths, steps. Ben was moving away. The recording cut off, situation contained._

Hux pressed the phone to his chest and wiped his streaming eyes, not caring about the state of his sleeve for once.

_Oh, Ben._

_And you didn’t do anything to save him, you stupid fuck._

Hux realised that he would take everything, every beating, every outburst, _anything_ , if it could make Ben feel better about what had happened.

He knew in his heart of hearts that that was a very fucked up thing to think, but right then, he did not care.

He saw that Millicent had emerged from her hiding place and strode up to be petted. She surged into his arms and headbutted him gently. He carried her to the sofa, on autopilot. He so wanted to go to Ben and hold him, but that was a bad idea for a multitude of reasons. Millicent and he watched reruns together for a while before he drifted off.

He came to a few hours later, grey, washed out light filtering in from outside. It was much later than he had thought, and he would be at work an hour late. He texted Phasma to let her know everything was fine but he got held up and would start with quality control today.

Put out catfood and tea.

Shower.

Step into work overall.

On impulse, grab a second work overall.

He knocked at the bedroom door.

“Kylo? Would you like to come to work with me?”

They did not say much. He decided to start with Blue House quality control because maybe, the baked goods would entice Kylo to eat something. Also, the hour-long drive in companionable silence might do Kylo good. Driving around with Phasma on her trips to several VA and medicaid offices had always done him good when he'd felt lost and horrible.

He did not say anything, but drove, eyes occasionally flicking over to Kylo’s hands. He was worrying the skin next to his thumbnail, already an angry red, eyes fixed ahead, face strangely empty. His knuckles were white and he had livid red scratches running up and down his arms.

The entire drive, Kylo did not say anything. Followed him into the house, watched him do quality control. _Good an excuse as any, you sentimental fool._ Accepted the cookie Hux handed him before he carefully wrapped up the rest and placed it in the van. Got in.

Hux wondered what he was stewing on. He was doing well enough, both had had a good night’s sleep, they could go back to pretending everything was fine, if only Kylo did not resist that. He put on the radio and reached for Kylo’s hand.

Kylo took it like a drowning man. Hux spent the rest of the drive towards head office pretending he did not notice that Kylo was quietly shaking. From time to time, Hux squeezed his hand to show that they were fine.

His conviction that things were basically fine was shaken at lunch when they ran into Phasma. She looked Hux up and down, zeroing in on the bruises which he knew were livid on his cheek and throat, turned around and punched Kylo, who went down like a sack of cement, before Hux could bark at her to stop, utterly surprised.

Kylo lay stretched out on his back, not saying anything when she put a boot onto the centre of his chest and stared down at him with an amount of loathing he had never seen her show to anyone.

His throat felt strangely tight and his eyes prickled as he put a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Phasma, stand down!”

Kylo just stared up at her morosely, a tear leaking from his already bloodshot eyes.

Phasma jerked her head at Hux.

“I am so sorry,” Kylo croaked and then stopped speaking, pressing his mouth shut.

Hux felt strangely bereft. Of _course_ Kylo was sorry, he had seen that all day, and Phasma had taken that away from him somehow. Kylo had been through so much, it was not fair to treat him like this. It was not as though anything seriously bad had happened to Hux.

Phasma kept glaring at him and then helped him to his feet but whispered something quiet and warning into Kylo’s ears he could not hear. Kylo mumbled assent, and Phasma released him. He staggered away slightly.

“Leave him,” Hux said imperiously. “We’re fine, Phasma,” he added.

Phasma scoffed.

“You may think that, but trust me, nothing about this shit show is fine, Hux.”

“Stay out of it.”

Hux heard the coldness in his own voice and was surprised at himself and also felt he recognised the precise inflection from his past. _Who_ had sounded like that? It was hard to tell.

“Things aren’t as clear cut as you make them out to be,” he added, trying to inject some much-needed reason into this conversation. People were staring at them, for heaven’s sake.

“No. They are. And it says a lot that you’re willing to pretend they are.”

“It’s my choice what I pretend and don’t,” he growled.

Phasma scoffed.

“That’s what they always say, you know that?” With that, she turned and left.

Kylo turned and went into the other direction, back to the company van, his ears blazing. Hux looked between the two of them, then turned and followed Kylo, who was standing by the door of the van, not looking at him.

“Listen,” he said, his usually resonant voice small. Hux waited. Kylo had stopped.

“Let’s go home,” Hux offered. “Would you like that?”

Kylo looked up only for a second, to give him a tortured expression. He seemed to be torn apart by strong emotions. Guilt, Hux decided. Guilt and shame. It was odd to see that expression on another person, so strange he almost had not recognised it. Suddenly, he decided what could mitigate the situation, even though it was fucked up and they both most likely needed help.

“Get in,” he ordered.

Kylo did.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: really unhealthy kink practices  
> Stay healthy out there, everyone!

In Hux’s flat, Kylo paused next to the door and did not move. He seemed so incredibly lost. 

“Sit,” Hux said curtly, pointing at the couch. 

Kylo sat like a sleepwalker. Hux made tea. 

“How did you know?” came the small voice from the sofa. 

Hux felt a feverish feeling rising in his chest. 

“How did I know where you were?” 

“Yes.” 

Hux did not answer. Instead, he handed Kylo a cup of tea with his usual insane amount of sugar and milk. 

“I was… about to call you when you came,” he said, voice small. 

Hux took a deep breath, then he got his laptop and opened the app. 

“This is the app through which your mother hired the cleaner. It’s installed on your phone.” Kylo nodded.

 _Now_ _or never. Get it together._

“I. It’s mine. I created it. And it has a security feature, and. It is triggered when my cleaners are attacked and calls the security company to them.” 

“But I’m not a cleaner,” Kylo’s voice was small. 

Hux took a deep breath and stared at his tea. 

“Yes, I know. I. Put the security system into your phone because Palpatine is dangerous. The system recognised when you were attacked and sent the security team.” 

Kylo’s eyes were round. He stared at his hands. He did not speak. Hux realised dimly that the rapid beating of his heart and the wet palms must mean he was scared. The realisation made his terror hit even harder. 

“I wanted to tell you sooner that it was my company, Kylo, I kept looking for the right moment, but there just never—” 

When he spoke, Kylo’s voice was uncharacteristically small. “You saved me.” His eyes, looking up, were confused and large. “I—” he gestured helplessly. “No one’s ever—” 

The next thing Hux knew was that Kylo’s arms were around him, and his head resting on his shoulder. Hux realised his own shaking and stabilised himself by clinging to Kylo. He realised at some point that Kylo was shaking, too, and fighting to hold it together. A strange calm enveloped Hux and he forced himself not to think of what Phasma would say about ignoring elephants in the room. He took hold of the back of Kylo’s neck and drew his face into the crook of his neck. Just like that. And it was easy. 

“It’s alright. I’m here,” he said, and Kylo let go. 

At some point, he had relocated to his bed, pulling the blanket over Kylo, who at first was quiet and then asleep. Hux sat next to him in the plaster dust. It was only midday, and yet, Kylo had been exhausted. 

Hux thought unfamiliar thoughts. Kylo’s burden rested heavily on him, and he realised that he would have to fight hard to keep from drowning in guilt himself. Like this, they were not sustainable. Like this, he could not help Kylo. Hux sighed. 

He _hated_ that he knew what the sensible next step should be, but he was good at making decisions that benefited other people. Had to get help for Kylo. He decided against his family, because Kylo had chosen to get away from them and not accepted help when they had offered it later. But. 

_Can you give me Dr Skywalker’s number? Maybe you were right about her_ _,_ he texted Phasma. 

Even if it was not… his thing, Kylo would benefit. Kylo probably had been in therapy before, too. And according to Phasma, Skywalker was not a touchy feely hug-it-out idiot like the rest of them and actually knew what she was doing. According to Phasma, she was perky enough to make her puke, but If _Phasma_ respected her, then she must be tough as nails, too. 

The number came a second later. 

_I was and am usually right. s_ _hes expensive though I only got appts with her because she’s volunteering her services for vets_ _good luck_

_wait if that’s for your_ _boy_ _then I take it back he can prob afford it_

_go as well you need it more_

Hux snorted and put his phone away, then sat down next to Kylo in case he needed anything, taking his laptop out to do quality control spot checks on his staff. 

At some point he realised that Kylo was awake again, but he kept working, letting the other man take his time. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t a cleaner?” Kylo asked into the stillness, his back still turned. 

“I _am_ a cleaner. You’ve seen me clean. But you mean the company. I… it started out differently, and then there was never a good moment.” 

“He mentioned you used to work for him,” Kylo said. _And you didn’t do anything to save or warn him._ No. That was _not_ true. He had tried, and he _had_ saved him. “He said…” Kylo swallowed. 

Hux forced himself into bravery. 

“I used to work for him. He…” _Say it. If you can’t_ _ev_ _en_ _say it, it didn’t happen._ “He abused me.” _Liar._ “I didn’t realise until much too late that that had been what was going on , but I did after I quit and i t’s alright now.” _You were fired, you stupid fuck._

Hux looked up from his laptop to find Kylo’s eyes on him, shock and terror too plain, too much, too open, too naked, too much like what he was trying very hard not to feel. He stared at the keys again. 

“I. I’m sorry I could not… I’m sorry,” he said to the space bar. His laptop was gently taken away. He blinked because his eyes were blurry, but it soon did not matter, because Kylo was drawing Hux towards him, holding him close, his slightly bristly cheek warm against his own.

“I want to kill him,” Kylo said, the gentleness of his actions belying the murderous rage in his voice. Hux felt so light and warm that something in him broke. Nobody had ever said anything like that to him before. But. He couldn’t even protect Kylo right without him wanting to protect Hux instead. _Pathetic_. Kylo stroked his back. _Good job looking after Kylo, Hux. Really, great work_ _._ Hux squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and gently extracting himself from Kylo’s arms, he looked into the other man's eyes. 

“The app records footage of what happened. If you want, you can sue him and try to use it to back up your claim. It’s on your phone.” 

Kylo shook his head. 

“A legal battle is the last thing I want,” he said quietly. Hux took his face in his hands and stared into his eyes. 

“Whatever you need,” he said, resting his forehead against Ben’s. He held him for a long while. 

It was much later, and they had eaten something in between and Hux had introduced Kylo to Millicent and Kylo had gone to lie down for a moment in the bedroom when Hux tried to take up the topic again. Kylo was lying on the bed when Hux sat down at his side, his expression closed, his eyes red, hands fidgeting with the blanket. He looked a mess. 

“I know this is not going to be your favourite option but hear me out. Can’t your mother sort something out through her channels?” 

“NO, she can’t know!” Kylo did not look at him. “You spoke to them,” he said, wonderingly. “Didn’t you? They both called me and they usually… it was you.” 

“Yes. I am sorry, Ben, I had to.” 

Kylo did not respond, but got to his feet, and then punched the mattress with all his strength, then the headboard, giving a muffled groan. The headboard creaked and gave a loud crack when his fist crashed into it again. Hux surged to his feet, standing before Kylo. 

“Stop it,” he said firmly. 

Kylo did, humming with suppressed tension and rage. There were several possibilities here, one of which was most likely a terrible idea. 

“Kneel,” he snapped. 

The sound Kylo made when he flopped to his knees sounded almost like a sob. _Fucking brilliant_. The sudden, feverish hope in his eyes was almost too much for Hux, but it did answer that question. 

“You really have crossed several lines yesterday, Kylo,” he said, marching back and forth next to Kylo, who was staring at him with a weirdly intent expression, meeting his eyes again. 

“You will number your transgressions, and you will be punished accordingly. Is that understood?” 

“Thank you, Master.” Kylo’s expression was so desperately hopeful it broke Hux’s heart. 

He went over to twine his hand in his hair, turned Kylo’s head to look at him, and his eyes met his. He did not want to think about the depth of the need he saw there, it was too much, and he was not qualified in any way to meddle with it. And yet, here he was, applying a plaster to a gashing wound. He moved his hands to Kylo’s cheeks. His dark eyes fluttered shut and he visibly relaxed. 

“Ben, I am not sure how good an idea this is. If you need me to stop at any point, say so. I will.” 

A shudder ran through Kylo and he nodded, tension radiating off of him. 

“Get up, and lean over the bed.” 

Kylo did, and Hux took his time rolling up his sleeve. He slapped Kylo’s backside sharply to get his attention. 

“Now, tell me what you did wrong.” 

Kylo bit back a gasp. 

“I… left you,” 

No, _wrong_. Hux smacked him lightly. 

“ _Transgressions_ , Kylo,” he admonished. “You did nothing wrong there.” 

Kylo bit back something, his breath hissing. 

“I… I… He.” 

Another light smack. 

“Something _you_ did, Kylo. You are not responsible for what he did. You could not have done anything.” 

Kylo took a shaky breath. 

“I. I let— _please_ , I need—Please.” 

Oh _no._

Hux felt as though he was falling forward. He needed to back off and let someone with a degree handle this. But he was the one that was here now. He was someone who could do something _now_. It was not ideal, but what ever was? 

Hux pressed his eyes shut for a second, then stepped right across the line. He brought his hand back and hit Kylo. 

“What did you do?” 

Kylo did not even seem to feel the impact. “I...” Kylo broke off. 

SMACK. 

“Tell me.” 

No response, but Ben’s posture seemed almost relaxed, expression still oddly hopeful. 

“I...” 

“Look at the mess you made of my bed,” Hux said. Kylo’s eyes shot up. 

“I’m so sorry,” Kylo said, voice still thick with tears. 

SMACK 

“You better be,” Hux growled good-naturedly, giving him a few light smacks on the right buttock. Kylo twitched. “What else?” 

“The wall,” Kylo said. “I hit the wall.” 

Hux hit him hard three times in quick succession, having to grab him by his trousers and holding him still to make sure that he did not jump out of the way. Kylo’s eyes were closed, his flace a blotchy mess. Hux heart ached. 

“And after?” he said quietly. 

“I did not fix it.” 

Three smacks. 

“I... hit you,” Kylo said, barely getting out the words. Hux swallowed. In for a penny... 

“You. Will. Never. Do. That. Again. Understood?” he said, Kylo bucking out of the way of each impact, biting his hand to keep quiet. Hux forced him down to keep him still. 

Kylo’s voice cracked on the reply he never got out. Hux released him and put his hand on Kylo’s head. 

“Good boy,” Hux said quietly. 

Kylo’s entire body was shaking with what Hux assumed were suppressed sobs. Maybe this was enough. Hux sat on the bed next to Kylo. But the other man immediately lowered himself over his lap, his feverish heat seeping through the cloth separating them. _Not done, then_. He smacked him lightly, Kylo jerking his buttocks away from his hand. 

“What else?” 

“I choked--,” he could barely make out, head buried in his arms, his messy curls of his hair bouncing as Hux’s hand met his flesh. 

This time he hit him as hard as he could, waited until he had stopped wriggling away in pain, held him in place, and hit his squirming buttocks again. They radiated heat and were probably already very tender. The hissed intake of breath confirming that it was hard enough. 

Hux forced himself to think about other things, work, cleaning, how hurt Kylo was, so as to not get aroused. This was not about sex, nor about him. 

“What else?” he said, one hand holding Kylo still, the other still keeping up light smacks in a steady rhythm. There was a long pause in which he grabbed hold of the overall’s belt loops to keep Kylo from wriggling out of the way. 

“I _said_ , What else?” 

“I let him touch me,” Kylo's voice was small. 

Oh, _Ben_. 

Hux closed his eyes briefly and then hit him, hard, reaching down to grab Kylo by the hair and drag his head back a little. 

“ _Who_ is supposed to touch you?” 

This time, Kylo did not bite back the sob. 

“You, Master.” 

Hux smacked him again, then ran his hands over every bit of Kylo he could touch. Kylo shuddered under his hands. Hux tangled them in Kylo’s hair. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

This time, Kylo’s voice did break. 

“You, Master,” he sobbed. 

“Good boy,” Hux said this over and over, as he eased Kylo up, cupping his cheek. “Good boy.” 

“Thank you, Master,” Kylo said so quietly that Hux could barely hear it, then straddled him, his legs and arms around Hux, and put his head on his shoulder. Hux’s arms came up to embrace him automatically, holding him, even rocking him back and forth a little as Kylo let go of the grip he had held on his self-control and sobbed into his shoulder. 

“I’m here, Ben. I’m here. You’re safe.” 

Hux understood it intimately, that crushing wave of shame. Beatings had never been an outlet for him, regaining control over other parts of his life had worked, but he knew that he would have tried this, too, if beatings made things easier for him. They were pressed so close, he thought he could almost feel Kylo’s pulse, and he thought that if there was any way for him to take over Kylo’s pain, he would have done so gladly. 

It took a long while for Kylo to calm down. In a very small voice, he started telling him, what happened. Hux had already anticipated some of the things Kylo said. Palpatine was cruel. He had used Kylo’s relative inexperience to take what he wanted and pretend it was part of their game. He ignored when Kylo told him to stop and said that real submission meant going beyond your boundaries. Initially, Kylo had agreed, but then, he kept crossing lines. And then he tried to rape him. 

Hux listened, held him, and controlled his quiet, simmering rage. At some point, the other man had calmed down and Hux managed to steer him into the bathroom. He could see that Ben was not wild about the idea, but Hux insisted, taking off his clothes for him and steering him in the shower. Ben closed his eyes as Hux started washing him, tears running silently down his face. Hux wanted to murder Palpatine, but he knew that that was not possible. And other things...he had to be careful, and it might take longer than he liked. But Hux was very good at pursuing a goal, and he knew he would not rest until Palpatine was... dealt with in a way that kept him from Ben forever. 

“Will you let me handle the matter?” he asked, sitting next to Ben on the bed. 

“What can you do?” 

“We will see. But will you let me handle it?” 

Hux pretended not to be hurt by the snort. 

“Sure.” 

“You’ll have to do as I say,” Hux admonished, running his hands through his hair. 

Ben sighed, and for the first time since setting foot in Hux’s apartment, his body looked fully relaxed. 

“Yes, Master.” 

“No, Ben, I mean it.” 

Kylo rolled over and looked up at him, expression curious. 

“Alright, _Armi_ tage. I will.” 

Hux supressed a wince and later sat next to Kylo on the bed, who was soon fast asleep, thinking dark thoughts. 


	16. Chapter 16

He went to work, stewing over his plan. He had stayed up long debating both feasibility and ethicality of what he was going to do, but in the end, he had decided that he could not have both.

It had been surprisingly easy to set up an appointment with Dr Skywalker, and he sent on the confirmation to Kylo’s phone.

 _You said I could handle the matter, and I have. 14.00, the address linked, I doubt that you have anything else to do that day,_ he wrote _._

_no offense_

_but_

_ive been in therapy most of my childhood_

_and its not exactly workd_

_so_

_whyy_

_You never know, you might be even worse off without it. Alternatively, you might benefit from it now that something horrific happened. You’ll never know if you don’t try._

_hippocrit_

_This is hardly hypocritical of me. I’ve done therapy, too, and it’s helped._

Well, that was a lie. _Nobody_ knew about this. Nobody. And he had stopped going when the therapist had brought up his relationship to his father. But maybe it had helped, in a way. He still had the nightmares, but he had gone to the meetings and got that under control. He felt a lot better about himself, too.

Hux sat back in his chair and considered what to do next. He eyed the package of files that he had collected from the security function over the past weeks. It was everything, everything Palpatine had ever done to Ben. Every single time he had ignored a “no”. Every single time he’d beaten him, and half the times it was not entirely clear if Ben enjoyed it. Every single time he’d made him sexually service him at work. Hux had thrown up twice when listening to it, the scent of aftershave almost suffocating him.

There were limited options.

Kylo did not want a lawsuit.

Hux doubted that in this country, it would be successful. He did know through his dealings with Palpatine that there were things that could be done to the unsinkable to…remove them. Palpatine had done the same to some of his opponents in the past, and it’d always been discrete.

Kylo did not want his parents involved.

And Leia helping would involve letting her know a lot of things that Kylo _really_ did not want her to know.

There was one more way, and Hux’s heart was in his throat even thinking about it. It was preposterous and depended on a lot.

Hux swallowed. He needed to get this right.

It was easier to let himself into the man’s office than he had anticipated. He had never been one to pick his security codes carefully, and his system was ludicrously unprotected. Thus, Hux only had to wait.

He forced his heart to slow down when he heard the familiar footsteps approaching. He squeezed his eyes shut and staved off the building nausea. _For Ben_.

The door opened, and there he was, stepping into the room.

Hux was surprised at how little he had to fight. In his mind, the man had been a giant, enlarged into monstrosity by his pain. In reality, he was… a man. Slightly startled, older than he had been, softer around the middle. And _go_.

Hux forced a smile onto his features and got up, hand outstretched.

“Sheev, good to see you,” he said falsely.

Palpatine was so surprised he shook his hand and then invited Hux to sit back down with a gesture, rattled out of his routine.

“Armitage, what can I do for you?”

“Let’s get right to it—you can drop out of the race and leave the country.”

Palpatine gave a startled laugh, and it still sounded friendly, even though Hux knew in his bones that it was fake.

“Is that right? You have lost your _mind_ , Armitage.”

Hux slid a USB stick across the glossy black table, pausing before withdrawing his hand with a flourish. A little dramatic, but Palpatine had always responded to measures like these.

“These are recordings of everything you’ve ever done to Ben Organa. And we both know that this was not the first time. I am sure that in the right hands…”

“Why would anyone believe _you_?” That inflection had used to make Hux feel so desperately small. The lack of that effect was almost like a missing limb. Hux forced another smile onto his face.

“ _Me?_ Oh, no, Sheev, you misunderstand. _Ben Organa_. That’s the person they’d be believing.”

“Then why isn’t _he_ here?”

“Do you really think that he has the _time_ to deal with this sort of thing? He is in a meeting. It’s over, Sheev.”

Palpatine shook his head.

“You’re full of shit, Armitage. None of this is true.”

Hux tried to force his heartbeat to slow and took a deep breath, shrugging.

“Check the files.”

With another headshake, Palpatine did, taking out a sleek grey laptop, fiddling with the stick, having to turn it around four times before he had inserted it.

 _Nervous,_ Hux realised.

And how.

He had never seen Palpatine rattled before.

He opened one file, and Hux put every single bit of strength he had into not getting up to punch Palpatine in the face. He was making Ben give him a blow job in the recording, the choking splutters making it clear that something was off.

“What makes you think that this is enough?” Palpatine asked, but his usually so forceful face was grey and old.

Hux opened his arms widely before resting them back on the armrests of his chair.

“Your call. We don’t have to do this like this. Make an offer,” he said.

Palpatine shook his head, and Hux could _just_ see it, the headlines in the papers, his marriage, his political career.

“It would take down Ben Organa, too,” Palpatine said.

Hux felt himself shrug.

“I would regret that, he is… _valuable_ to me. But if that’s what it takes—I’ve only known him for a few months.”

Palpatine narrowed his eyes.

“Your damn app! _That’s_... Hux, did you _plant_ him?”

Hux inclined his head and smiled.

Palpatine shook his head.

“Is this all there is?” he asked.

Hux shrugged.

“Do you want to find out?”

“Blackmail, Armitage?”

Hux leant forward a little, forcing his face to look sincere. “I’d consider it a favour owed, Sheev,” he replied. “For old time’s sake.”

In the car, he could not believe that he’d been allowed to leave. Just like that. None of the horrors his brain had helpfully rolled out for him while he’d been on the way had transpired.

When he reached home, news were breaking that Palpatine had to quit due to a family emergency, focussing on his errant son instead, and that he was consequently dropping out of the race to return to England, his face in the press conference showing polite regret and his customary sincerity. Hux turned away from the television set.

Hux stood in the shower to scrub himself but found it was less necessary, somehow. By the end, he was still raw, and still got a very curious look from Kylo when he emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a dressing gown, but it was not half as bad as usual.

Dressed in his pyjamas, he sat down on the other side of the sofa, facing Kylo cross-legged.

“What did you do?” Kylo said, nodding towards the news on the television. Hux switched it off.

“Blackmail,” he said. “As you know, Palpatine and I… have a shared history. He thinks he knows certain things about me.” _Like that you are a completely ruthless, heartless bastard, for example_.

“There are some things in my past that I’ve never told you and that are… not great. He thinks that I sent you to him. That I’d do that to gather intel on him. What he knows about me makes this… not justified, but I am not proud of some of the things I did while I worked for his company.” _You look much prettier on your knees, Armitage. That’s right, open for me…_

“I’m so sorry,” Kylo said in a small voice.

“It’s all in the past and I’ve dealt with it,” Hux lied.

There was a pause during which Hux tried hard to avoid Kylo’s searching look.

“Listen, Hux, there are some things… you know that I’ve been to therapy a lot, god knows you’ve noticed that I’ve got some issues, and now this… we need help. If this is going to work, both of us need help. Like, I can see that you’re about a thousand times more together and healthy than me, but I’m a mess, and I’m worried. I... will definitely go to that appointment, and I’m so grateful that you set that up for me. I’ve had anger issues before, but it’s been... years since I’ve hit anyone. The other night really scared me. I… I’m not sure we should mix play and reality like that, either,” he added, and fell silent.

Hux did not look at him for a while. It was obvious that he’d prepared himself to say this, and he was eternally grateful, because a lot of what Kylo said were things that needed to be said, and he was glad that he was not the one forced to give voice to them.

They were both too fucked up to be together, and good on Kylo to realise that.

He swallowed and steeled himself to look at Kylo, blinking rapidly.

“I agree, there are definitely things that overshadow things to a degree that—”

“I don’t want to break up,” Kylo added hastily. “Please. I really, really don’t want to break up. You’ve done things for me that nobody _ever_ would, and I don’t know why, really.”

Hux looked at him then, entirely confused.

“Because you matter to me, Ben. You matter so much.”

Kylo smiled.

“Me, too,” he said. “I mean, I know. I mean, I love you, too,” he replied. 

Hux blinked.

Kylo reached out and put his hand on Hux’s knee.

“Don’t run off, please. It’s ok if you don’t feel that. I—that’s why I mean that I think we need help. We’re… We’ve both been through a lot. I mean, you’ve already been through a lot, and you’ve handled it about a thousand times better, as I said, but I’m a _mess_ , Hux, and if there is any danger of me hurting you again, I could never live with myself. Where are you going? Please don’t do this, Hux.”

Hux stopped, halfway reaching for his shoes. Kylo was right. And he deserved better.

He closed his eyes and turned back, sitting back on the couch.

“Fine. I’ll get an appointment with that Skywalker woman, too.” Ben gave a small snort.

“You realise that she’s my cousin, right?”

Hux frowned.

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t mind. But. Skywalker? Like Luke Skywalker. She’s my cousin. But she’s one of the good ones. I’ve been in therapy with her before and it’s really helped. I thought that’s why you set up the appointment, that you knew, somehow, that—”

Hux snorted.

“I did not go through everything on your phone, Ben. I don’t—I mean, I do spy on people occasionally, but not on you. I had to, that’s why I did it, but I usually would not.”

Kylo blinked.

“Oh. Okay. I... I’m sorry.”

Hux smiled, running his hands through his hair, ruffling it for the first time in what seemed like years.

“Ok. If this is going to work, there are some things you should know to allow you to make a proper decision, Ben. And I would understand if you on balance decided you’d rather not be, with me.”

Kylo shook his head.

“Not going to happen, Hux. I’m not easily scared off.”

Hux closed his eyes, and told him. Not even Phasma knew some of the things he told him about. He heard his voice sounding neutral, almost clinical, a sharp contrast to the rapid beating of his heart. It was like telling someone the biography of another person. _Walking fucking cliché, that’s what you are._

He did not look at Kylo’s face, focussing on his own hands instead. And he said—not everything, but most things. Childhood in a household on the dole. The fights and the anger. Moving in with his biological father halfway across the country when his mother had been declared unfit. The nightmares. Boarding school, the abuse he faced there as the slight, gay son of someone who was on the school board. Nobody would believe Hux if he told anyone what the good, Catholic sons of the other board members did to him there. Different nightmares. Alcoholism. His loneliness at uni. His experiments with some of the other students, his horror at finding out that he enjoyed the thought of doing to others in a game setting what had been done to him at boarding school. Palpatine. The things he had done while working for him. The things Palpatine had done _to_ him. _With you, you mean._ The crash. Clawing his way back up to where he was. Cleaning. Meetings. Phasma. Recovery. Therapy. The app. Ben.

He felt a long way away from himself when he noticed Kylo’s hand tentatively slide into his own.

“So… you’re really good at overcoming terrible odds and surviving whatever life throws at you, successfully and with great courage, is what you’re saying,” he said.

Hux’s laugh was half a sob.

Well into the week, he told Phasma a shortened version of the story and also mentioned that he had signed up for therapy with her doctor. Uncharacteristically for her, she her face showed pleasure and stepped over to him, far closer than she usually did, and held on to his shoulders.

“Good on you, boss. I’ve been saying for years it can’t hurt. What’s the worst she can do, send you home because everything’s fine? Tell you you’re in a fucked up situation? You know that already. It’s great that you’re doing this,” she added. “Like, I’m not saying it’s the panacea that these soft hearted idiots always make it out to be, but it’s a useful tool and can really help.”

Hux smiled.

“Thanks, Phasma. You really are my best friend, you know?”

She smiled, her teeth white and straight.

“Course I do, boss.”

About a month passed. Hux’s routine changed a lot. He worked less, was home more often, spent more time with Kylo. Kylo kept up his job hunt, to Hux’s surprise. When he tentatively suggested finding something more suited to his mental needs, like becoming a MMA trainer type person, if such a thing existed, Kylo jumped on that and actually found a job as a personal trainer after a while.

They had had sex, but had not played since… that day. It stood between them. He had apologised, but still. Hux was scared of it, somehow. Kylo had expressed an interest, but Hux was weary of stepping into something he did not want to be in. He missed it, missed the raw rush of power it gave him, but other things were simply more important.

That day, he came home to what looked more like Kylo’s old mess than the state of orderliness they’d compromised on. He felt heat rising in his belly. _What was this?_

When he came into the living room, he was confronted with a similar mess, Kylo sitting in the midst of it, reading something.

“What on earth happened here?”

Kylo looked up, and something in his look made Hux’s heart beat faster.

“Why? Something wrong?”

“Clean this up!”

“No.” Calculated petulance. Hux soared.

Something like relief and heat coursing through him, Hux grabbed hold of Kylo’s hair and dragged him into the bedroom, where he made him stand in front of the bed. He deliberated, then decided to make quick work of this. He took down a broad leather belt, grabbed hold of Kylo’s neck, and folded him forward until he touched his feet. 

“Count,” he said, snapping the leather together, then letting it sing through the air and impact painfully with Kylo’s black-clad buttocks. There had been neither warm-up nor warning, and Kylo cried out immediately, reaching back to his buttocks with a curse. Hux felt a smile bloom on his face when he smacked the area where his belt had landed.

“I said: count!”

Kylo let out another muffled curse, then went back down and made himself stand very still. Hux felt a twinge in his heart. His.

“One. Thank you, Master.”

Hux was out of practice, he noticed as the second impact was slightly off and curled around Kylo’s midriff painfully, making Kylo jump with pain and twist, hand briefly pressed against where the belt had landed. He sucked in a breath and held it, then put his hand back down. _So good._

“Two. Thank you, Master.”

The sharp intake of breath shortly before Kylo expected the leather to meet his skin was delicious, and the grunt of pain a delicacy that Hux wanted to gorge himself on forever.

“Three. Thank you, Master.”

He paused before the next impact, just observing, Kylo’s small movements to stay in place, muscles moving under the black fabric, the tips of his hair sticking sweatily to his neck. The little bead of his pulse was just visible, and Hux could see how fast it was. Hux brought his arm back.

“Four. Thank you, Master.”

That little jump, the clench in his muscles as the belt hit. Hux’s trousers were getting uncomfortably tight and he swallowed, watching Kylo’s muscles move under his shirt as he clenched his fist, his pale skin covered with a fine sheen of sweat where it was visible. He was so, _so_ beautiful, and all his. Soaring, Hux brought his arm back again.

“Five. Thank you, Master.”

This time, Hux had to steer back Kylo into position because he was jumping on the spot a little, backside clenched, straining against the pain. Hux wanted to eat him alive. His blood was rushing in his ears and he could tell that he would not last very long, whatever they did next. Kylo’s laboured breath showed him that the same must be true for him. He decided to end this and brough this hand back a last time, the leather singing through the air and impacting with Kylo’s backside painfully.

Kylo immediately tried to cover himself up with a hand, letting out a bark of pain. It took longer for Kylo to get himself together enough to speak this time.

“Six. Thank you, Master.”

“Strip.”

Kylo eagerly rid himself of his sweater, but hissed as he very gingerly lowered his trousers. Hux felt the silly smile spread on his face as he saw how red Kylo’s buttocks had become. He was also possessed by a roaring pride, and a strange sense of strength. Kylo was his, and his alone. He gently stroked the redness. A dark delight bloomed up in him as he saw Kylo wince. 

“Stand up straight,” he said, and noticed how breathless his voice sounded. His penis was pounding against his trousers and he could see that Kylo was hard, too. He reached out and grabbed it, making Kylo give a wince that ended in a moan.

“Who do you belong to?”

Kylo’s eyes were very luminous and open.

“You,” he said, and kissed him. Hux kissed him back, and then shoved him backwards so that he flopped onto the bed, then covered him quickly, fumbling with his trousers to rub his penis against Kylo’s. Kylo reached out a hand and encircled them both, stroking languidly, his large hands seemingly made for this in spite of the awkward angle. Hux let out a surprised moan at how good this felt, feeling himself against Kylo, his heat seeping into his every pore.

It did not take long and Hux bit Kylo’s shoulder so that he did not cry out again, Kylo following him the moment his teeth closed around his flesh.

They stayed there, panting, sharing breaths, sharing a pulse.

When Hux looked down at Kylo, he looked so open and vulnerable that he immediately nipped his shoulder again, earning a sharp intake of breath and Kylo leaning over to kiss him.

_This won’t last, you’re both too fucked up, he won’t be able to take your bullshit for long._

_And you’re kidding yourself if you think that you can handle him, either._

But, Hux thought, in the end, everything worth doing was hard work, and everything that required hard work was worth sticking with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this was a lot of fun and made life in Lockdown a lot easier for me and I'm happy that I got to write this. There's a couple of things I'd like to say:   
> 1) The thing I struggled with most was coming up with the app- writing a dystopia-level evil app worthy of being the First Order was difficult because whenever I thought I had written the worst possible thing, I'd read an article about Uber or whatever and see that no, my idea was still far nicer to its workers. So I gave up on that and made Hux code a relatively benign app instead.   
> 2) I'd also like to add, because my story does this, too, that BDSM couples don't usually have a tragic past or trauma in their background and that most of them are perfectly well-adjusted, sane, ordinary people.   
> 3) Thanks to everyone who read this, you really made my day, and I hope you are healthy and happy.


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